Truth Be Told: Vol 2
by Phanatic4Phantom
Summary: COMPLETE: This is the sequel to my first fic To Be Held. In this continuation, we look into Erik's past as well as prepare for Raoul and Meg's upcoming wedding. Based on the characters portrayed in the 2004 Phantom movie. EC and RM.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note**  
Hello again, fellow Phantom fans! I have returned for another go at this fan fiction stuff. Did you all enjoy the last one? Should I bother with a sequel? Kidding! But of course I shall! That's what everyone's been waiting for, right? Sorry to leave everyone on a cliffie, but you know you can't have a sequel without a good cliffhanger. Once again, I just want to praise all the veteran fiction writers here that have so many wonderful Phantom stories. I thank those that I have read that inspired me to give it a try. This is my second attempt at a fan fiction, so I hope everyone will enjoy it as much as the first. Just a reminder, I'm not a pro novelist or anything. I just loved the characters from the 2004 movie and it inspired me to write. I'm a diehard E/C supporter and I try and keep the characters true, with a bit of my own take on them, for the sake of my storyline. Raoul lovers should like this story. Heck, my last fic made me like Raoul!

**Regarding Foreign Languages**  
My French is not perfect, but I do try to add a bit of it in this story, now and then. Should you find any mistakes, I'll be happy to edit them in. Just let me know. I'll also be adding a bit of Italian also, this time around, so bear with me.

**Rating Note**  
There will be intimacy, hence the M Rating for later Chapters. It will be kept to "Romance Novel" level, not smut.

**Special Thanks**  
To my boyfriend Jon, for putting up with my Phantom and Gerry obsession. He'll also be aiding me with editing along the way, so I thank him in advance for having to read and deal with my romantic fluff.

**Read & Review if you'd like. I will do my best to reply. But please refrain from flames. **

Thank You,  
-_Phanatic4Phantom a.k.a. Dyanicess_

**Disclaimer**  
I do not own any of these beautiful characters. My heartfelt thanks to Gaston Leroux, Andrew Lloyd Webber, and Susan Kay, for giving the world The Phantom of the Opera. Huge thanks to Joel Schumacher for putting the Phantom on the big screen.

**Story Background**  
This is based mostly on the 2004 movie and its characters portrayed therein, with a bit of Leroux and Kay references now and then. I'm going to attempt to put my own spin on Erik's background, so please keep an open mind. Just thought I'd warn you all now in case people wonder. I suggest at least reading the last Chapter of _"To Be Held"_ just so that you can get an idea what is going on in this continuation.

_And now, I present to you…_

**Truth Be Told**  
_The Sequel for "To Be Held"_

_We last left our lovely characters at the reopening of the Opera Populaire. Raoul has proposed to Meg, Nadir is off in Morocco, and Erik and Christine are in Melun… for now…_

**CHAPTER 1**

The magnificent Opera Populaire reopened to its Parisian citizens on the day of the Bastille. The production of Pierre Carlet de Chamblain de Marivaux's "The Game of Love and Chance" was a huge success as was the masked ball that followed. The events of the exciting evening were headlined across the front page of the morning paper.

_"Opera Populaire reopens to a sold out audience … … … Monsieur and Madame Delacroix were spellbinding as Silvia and Durante … … … Mademoiselle Giry surprised the audience with her acting debut … … … Le Comte Raoul de Chagny graced the stage with his hidden talent … … … Balle masquée was more than just a celebration for the opera house, as le Comte proposed to Mademoiselle Giry … … … Wedding date to be announced … … …"_

The year seemed to be full of promise and it was only half over. One could only hope that the rest of the year would finish without chaos or controversy, a peaceful and uneventful close.

* * *

Falling asleep at his desk in the study, Erik was awoken by the loving touch of his Angel. Christine had worried about her husband since he had mentioned he would join her shortly. An hour had gone by and he had not met her upstairs. _"An hour too long,"_ she thought to herself as she traveled down the staircase and into the study. 

"Erik?" she placed a tender hand upon his shoulder, "Come to bed with me," she whispered.

Erik hadn't meant to fall asleep at his desk. He wrote up a response to Nadir's letter and called to his butler, Nicolas, to deliver it to a messenger without delay. That was the last thing he remembered. _"This entire day's events are to blame,"_ he reasoned. All the excitement had finally caught up to him in the end. He would have an even busier day tomorrow though. _"How will I explain the need to journey to Morocco?"_ It was something he chose to worry about after a well-deserved night's sleep. With a sigh, he followed Christine up the spiral staircase and to the master suite.

* * *

Raoul brought the Giry's home from the opera house. Upon reaching their flat, he kissed his soon to be mother-in-law on both cheeks and asked her permission to see Meg for lunch and discuss their wedding arrangements. Madame Giry smiled and granted his request without a second thought. 

"You _must_ join us for dinner then," she insisted.

He graciously accepted her request whole-heartedly.

Annette was excited to have her daughter married off to a distinguished and honorable young man such as Raoul. She never thought of something like this happening to her darling girl, not with the way the circumstances had come about in the first place. Nonetheless, it had all turned out for the best and everyone she loved and cared about were happy.

Kissing his lovely fiancée goodbye, Raoul climbed into his carriage and settled himself within. Leaning his head against the wall, he let out a long sigh of contentment; closing his eyes and smiling. His driver, Francois, clucked his tongue and maneuvered the horses down the cobblestone street, making their way to the de Chagny estate. Moments later and unseen to all, a second carriage departed in haste, rushing furiously along another route. The unknown vehicle was determined to beat the Comte back to his estate.

* * *

The two ominous men stood outside of the de Chagny residence, watching from the east wall of the property as Raoul entered the front door. The lights inside of the estate soon dimmed and the two men made their way back to their carriage and onto the road; driving away from the grand estate. 

The burly man yawned as he asked, "What are we going to do for the rest of the night, Ranier?"

"We get some sleep, Guifford, you dullard!" The thin man responded, annoyed at his partner's senselessness.

After several moments of traveling in the dead of night, they came across a quaint little inn. The Roost was a small building a few miles away from the de Chagny estate, which suited their needs perfectly. In the morning, Ranier would make sure to send word to his boss of their location and ask what further plans he had intended for them. _"Surely there is more to this than spending all my precious time secretly babysitting some snobby nobleman." _That was how Ranier perceived the young Comte, as just another wealthy brat, born with a silver spoon in his mouth.

* * *

It was another warm night in Marrakech, Morocco. Nadir stood out on the balcony watching the purple and orange colors dance across the horizon as the sun began to set. _"This sky reminds me of Persia,"_ he recalled, almost misty eyed. It had been almost four months since his manservant had called him away from Melun. He didn't wish to leave Erik, due to Christine's condition at the time, but this was a matter that could not be overlooked. 

Valente Ramunni, a man Erik had befriended during his time in Italy, specialized in the field of investigation. Upon hearing of Erik's bizarre past, he offered his services to him freely. Erik was hesitant and quite skeptical at Valente's offer, but obliged him nonetheless being intrigued at what the man could possibly turn up if anything. As Erik became more financially sound, he made sure to send him funds to further his work more efficiently. All he had to go on was the name of Erik's mother, Madeleine, and the town he had lived in for all of nine years. Over the course of his investigation, the only thing Valente had been able to uncover was Erik's surname of Delacroix, which he obtained from an old servant that used to be employed by Madeleine. The elderly woman had also given Valente a diary that once belonged to her mistress and upon further inspection of its contents, the information that once seemed such a small reward was now worth its weight in gold. In complete disbelief, Valente journeyed from France to Morocco as he dug further into the Delacroix name. What he stumbled across was an even greater tale than that of which Erik had shared with him about his upbringing.

Nadir had sent his manservant, Darius, to aid in Valente's investigation since the discovery of the surname. His intuitive sense had once again proved to be undeniable, as he received word from Morocco months later. They had uncovered something significant to Erik's past. Once he arrived at the riad in Marrakech, they told him of what they knew. As each account was being told between the two, Nadir listened with astonishment, trying his best to keep an objective mind to the revelations unfolding before him.

"It cannot be true! But if it _is_, then…" Nadir paused, trying to take in all of which he had just been told.

"Sì, it is possible what you are thinking, mio amico, but we have yet to determine its validity," Valente informed.

Nadir insisted on investigating every detail for himself before sending word to his masked friend. It had taken him months to gather the information he needed to supply Erik with. There would be no room for him to doubt Nadir's own findings.

* * *

**Author's Note x2**  
My apologies in advance for such a short chapter. I plan to update once a week (every Friday) or more if my writings permit me. 

**Disclaimer**  
I am not affiliated with Pierre Carlet de Chamblain de Marivaux nor do I own the rights to his production of "The Game of Love and Chance."


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

Two white doves perched along the iron railing of the master suite's private terrace. They sang their morning tune as the sun beamed its golden light upon The House of Roses. Christine opened her eyes and stretched out into a yawn. She turned on her side, facing her husband and watched as he slept peacefully. The steady rise and fall of his chest was entrancing to her. She placed her arm over his chest and rested her chin against his shoulder, enjoying the warmth of his body against her own.

"Is it morning already?" Erik asked, keeping his eyes closed.

"Oui, mon amour," she answered, kissing his shoulder.

Erik groaned, not wanting to face the day ahead of him. If he had a choice in the matter, he would choose to spend his entire day in bed with his wife, just as he was at that moment. Wrapping his arm around her, he cuddled her close to him. He kissed her nose and smiled at her impishly. He enjoyed waking to her angelic face. She was so calming to him. He had never known such spiritual bliss before her. His once tortured soul was now at peace and it was because of her that he felt like any other person in the world. _"The world… Morocco."_ He let out a sigh. He had almost forgotten what he had to do this morning. There was only one way to go about it. He would have to come right out and tell her. She would ask eventually, since she knew Nadir had sent him a letter last night.

"Christine? There is something I must tell you," he said, touching his finger across her chin. She viewed him with curious eyes, as he met hers with all seriousness.

"Nadir has asked that I travel to Morocco to meet with him. He says it's a matter that must be discussed in person." He steadied himself, waiting on her reaction to his statement.

"Am I not to accompany you, Erik?" she asked, puzzled at his obviously feigned nonchalance.

"As much as I would like you to be with me, I fear this is a journey that I must attend to alone," he answered simply.

"I see," she said, as she got up from the comfort of the bed. She opened the French doors to the private terrace and looked up towards the soft blue of the morning sky.

Erik grabbed his robe that was draped across the back of a chair and tied it around himself as he made his way toward her. She closed her eyes in an attempt to quell the tears, but they soon fell as he wrapped his arms about her softly.

"Christine, please try to understand. I don't know what awaits me in Morocco and I dare not put you in harms way. You'll be safe here and I will return home to you as soon as I can," he assured.

She turned to face him, looking into his eyes desperately and said, "Just promise me you'll be safe, Erik. A few weeks I can deal with, but I won't be able to survive if something were to happen to you." She lowered her head and he placed his hand under her chin, bringing her back to meet his gaze. The tears tumbled down her rose colored cheeks as he tried to brush them away with his thumb.

"Have faith in me, mon ange. I can take care of myself and nothing will ever keep us apart. I promise I will return to you," he swore, and then kissed her quivering lips to seal his pledge.

She held him tightly as she wept onto his chest. He rubbed her back trying to calm her. "Shhhh. Everything will be alright, Christine. I will see about having Annette stay with you while I am away." She nodded her head slightly against him as he kissed the top of her silken curls.

* * *

Sebastien Laroche sat in the study of his home in Lisieux, leafing through several documents which seemed to be permanent fixtures upon his desk. His associate, Jean Louis came in with a letter in his hand, tossing it onto the desk pile. 

"It appears to be from our two lackeys. Let us hope they haven't gotten lost," Jean snorted as he seated himself in front of Sebastien, placing his feet onto the desk.

Sebastien immediately took hold of the letter and ripped it open, scanning its contents.

**Monsieur Laroche,**

**Guifford and I are within three miles of le Comte. We are currently at Le Perchoir awaiting further instruction. It may interest you to know that upon observation at the opera gala, he proposed to one Mademoiselle Giry. **

**We'll be following him this afternoon. He has plans to meet with his new fiancée for lunch. I do hope you give us orders that require something of a more physical nature. We grow impatient wasting our talents.**

**-Ranier**

He crumpled the letter between his hands and tossed it into the wastebasket, grinning. _"So, the new Comte is getting married. I do love weddings,"_ he thought deviously.

"Looks like we'll be attending a wedding, Jean," he smugly informed his associate.

"I detest weddings. They always consist of sniveling morons," Jean ridiculed.

Sebastien got up and smacked Jean's feet off of his desk. "This is one wedding you will enjoy, mon ami. I assure you." His eyes gleamed with wicked delight as he pondered the events to come.

* * *

Raoul and Meg sat in front of the Café de Laine with his mother, the Marquise Anaïs de Chagny. She had brought several swatches with her from her seamstress since she insisted on having Meg's wedding dress made. Meg had told her it was not necessary for her to go through so much trouble on her behalf, but there was no way of swaying her decision. Raoul had told her as much. 

"Child, soon you will be my daughter. Let me do this one thing for you and Raoul," Anaïs implored, beaming a smile toward the both of them.

Raoul placed his hand on top of Meg's and said, "There's no use arguing, little Meg. Not even my father can win once her mind is made up," he grinned mischievously at his mother.

Smacking her son's hand in jest, she laughed and said, "Raoul, don't be so terrible!"

"If that's truly the case then I accept," Meg answered.

Anaïs clasped her hands together in excitement. "Merveilleux! I knew you would see it my way!"

Anaïs and Meg meticulously went over the swatches, going through several colors of fabric as Raoul went over the guest list. Meg had decided on a white and gold silk from Italy which Anaïs had hoped she would choose. The fabric was a newly acquired import from Milan and highly sought after. It was in fact Anaïs's favorite from all the other swatches she had brought with her.

"We will visit my seamstress, Lissette, tomorrow at La Bobine Dorée for your fitting. She does incredible work in a timely fashion," Anaïs pointed out.

"For once, I am glad I will not be in need of a fitting," Raoul thankfully mentioned with ease. He recalled all the times his mother took him to The Golden Spool in his youth where he would suffer under the torture of tiny pins pricking themselves into his skin. Trying to keep still was nearly impossible for a child to do.

"Will your naval uniform not need altering, dearest?" Anaïs questioned.

"Unless I plan to grow fat overnight, it should be fine, mother," he answered.

Anaïs raised a suspicious eyebrow to her son. "I will need to have a look for myself. Your wedding day is the biggest day of your life and I will make sure that everything is perfect for the both of you."

Raoul sighed shaking his head._ "Perhaps a private engagement would have been best."_

Meg watched as Raoul was losing the battle against his mother's will. She couldn't help but hold her hand to her mouth and giggle uncontrollably.

* * *

From a nearby alleyway, Ranier and Guifford kept a steady watch on the Comte. _"It would be so easy to shoot him from here and be done with this nonsense,"_ Ranier thought, as he watched Raoul laughing amongst his company. His attention switched to Guifford, as he chewed on a small baguette he had brought with him from this morning's breakfast. 

"_Must_ you chew with your mouth open? It unnerves me beyond words!" He turned to Guifford, snatching the baguette out of his hand and throwing it to the ground.

"I didn't know how long we would be and it _is_ lunch time." Guifford was always thinking with his stomach first. He was good for added muscle, but beyond that, Ranier was always one step away from wanting to kill him. _"I would be doing society a favor, no doubt,"_ he contemplated.

"Get the carriage. They're getting ready to go," Ranier ordered, as he slapped Guifford's belly with the back of his hand.

* * *

Nadir sat in his room comparing his findings with that of Valente's journals, which he had kept during his years of investigation into Erik's past. He picked up Madeleine's diary and went over it again. It was the single most damning piece of all the accounts. Nadir was still in disbelief over the words contained within the pages. Pulling him out of his trance-like state, he was interrupted by a knock on the door. Darius called to him from the other side. "May I enter, sir?" 

Gathering the papers before him, Nadir answered, "Come in, Darius."

Stepping into the room, Darius inquired, "How did you fare in town?"

No matter how much information Darius and Valente had collected, Nadir continued to investigate every aspect of their findings. He knew that Erik would not take kindly to any misinformation regarding his past.

"I arrived at the music school where Madame Sanxay used to teach and the instructor informed me that it had been years since she had even been employed under them. Apparently she had become ill and had to end her services with the school. She was last known to be admitted into a hospital in Menara."

"Did you get any leads to go on, other than that?" Darius questioned.

"An old address, which I will see to in the morning," Nadir said as he walked over to the balcony and took in the warm evening breeze.

"Shall I accompany you, sir?"

"I'll need you and Valente to go to Menara and see what you both can uncover there," Nadir explained.

"I shall inform Valente then." Darius bowed to his master and left him to his musings.

* * *

**Author's Note:**  
I updated Chapter 2 a bit earlier since I will be unavailable tomorrow because of my 15th year anniversary! -smiles- I just wanted to thank everyone that's been able to review so far. I'm glad you all were excited to see the sequel go live. I hope you all got my replies. -hugs-  



	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

Erik traveled from France to Spain, and then took passage on a ship to Tangier. It would take two more days of travel by camel to reach Nadir in Marrakech. While in Tangier, he made sure to stop at the local marketplace to acquire more suitable attire for him to wear during his stay. His Parisian tailored suits would do him no good in his desert surroundings. The garments of Morocco were quite colorful and there were several patterns to choose from, but Erik went with the most inconspicuous styles to blend in as much as possible with the locals.

After his shopping excursion, he secured a room at a riad, not far from where he would need to seek transport in the morning. _"I have a long day of traveling ahead of me," _he thought, seating himself amongst various pillows before a low, beautifully inlaid table. He dined to an ethnic dinner of Batinjaan Zalud and Couscous Tangier. A delightful Moroccan mint tea finished the foreign fare to perfection.

He readied himself for the night, stripping his shirt from his body and slipping out of his trousers. He removed his mask, placing it onto the bedside table and then reached for the gas lamp. He turned the key and watched as the ember glow flickered and died. The darkness was quick to engulf its master's towering frame. He took in a breath and exhaled, giving into the familiar safety of the shadows. He slid wearily into bed, pulling the covers to rest upon his naked flesh. Relaxing within the lucidity of silence, he thought of his beautiful Christine. He had grown accustomed to her beside him, cuddled up between the sheets. _"There was once a time I had accepted living a life of solitude, but now it pains me to be without her.__"_ He stared into the darkness with his hands behind his head, visually sketching his angel against the black canvas of night.

* * *

Raoul and Meg had visited several churches, but it was not until their last stop that they decided on The Sainte-Chapelle Cathedral. It was everything they had hoped for and more. Saint Louis, the king of France, built the cathedral during the Middle Ages and its Gothic design gave it spiritual and artistic depth. The 13th century stained-glass only heightened its beauty with its kaleidoscope of colors. _"It's quite romantic,"_ Meg thought in awe. Raoul was captivated by the way she looked upon her surroundings with complete adoration. He reached for her hand and held it tenderly within his. 

"I take it you've decided, little Meg?" He asked with a smile.

"I can't think of a better place than this. It's absolutely breathtaking!" She answered, as she continued to survey the cathedrals mystique.

All the wedding details were now set and the only thing left to do was deliver Erik and Christine's invitation. Meg insisted on taking it to them personally, giving her an excuse to visit.

* * *

After her fitting at The Golden Spool, Meg stopped at home to ask her mother if she wanted to accompany her to Melun. 

"I was just on my way to La Maison de Roses. Erik has left for Morocco and I am to watch over Christine while he is away," Annette announced, holding a letter from Erik detailing his whereabouts.

"He didn't take her with him?" Meg asked, confused.

"Non. He wasn't sure what awaited him in Morocco, so he wished to keep Christine safe at home."

Meg hesitated a moment before asking, "Is he in trouble, Maman?"

"I am not sure of the nature of his visit, but he will be in Nadir's care and you know Erik is capable of keeping himself out of harms way," Annette said with confidence.

"I wanted to ask Christine to be my Maid of Honor. Do you think she will accept?"

"I am sure she will be happy to stand beside you, chéri. It will be good for her to take her mind off of Erik."

* * *

Raoul stood before his mother, dressed in his formal naval attire, as she looked him over with a discriminating eye. "Dearest, this will not do. Your jacket and trousers will need to be altered. The sleeves are a bit high here," she lifted his arm to show him, "and it seems the bottom of your trousers are frayed." She fiddled with the fabric just below his ankles as he looked down to her. 

"Mother, _really_, it's fine," he fussed.

"It _will_ be fine once we have Lissette fix it," she insisted.

Raoul let out a long sigh. He knew it was impossible to dissuade her, but nevertheless he felt he needed to stand his ground. They argued for several hours before he finally submitted. He was definitely no match for her. _"No wonder Father is the way he is. The woman is unreasonable when it comes to getting what she wants."_

_

* * *

_

Ranier and Guifford returned to The Roost after keeping watch over the de Chagny estate. Raoul's mother had come and gone and it seemed the Comte would be spending the rest of the evening inside his home.

A letter from Sebastien was given to Ranier by the proprietor, just before he ascended to his room. Ranier sent Guifford to gather some food from the kitchen so that he could read the letter in private. He tossed his jacket onto the bed and took a seat, tearing at the envelope.

**Ranier,**

**Jean and I will be traveling to you in three days time. Be sure to secure two more rooms at Le Perchoir. It's time to confront our new Comte and let him know of his true responsibilities. He should have no problems complying with our needs. If not, then I have faith in you and Guifford to remedy the situation.**

**See to it that you both acquire proper wedding attire, for we shall all be surprise guests for le Comte and his new bride. **

**-S. Laroche**

Ranier grinned as he folded the letter. _"It's about bloody time! I would have killed le Comte out of sheer boredom, had this gone on any longer!"_

_

* * *

_

It was just before noon when Nadir arrived in Taddert. He glanced down at the small piece of paper he held within his hand and then looked upon the house to which the address belonged to. It was located against the mountainside and secluded from the rest of the village. It was well kept in appearance, which fueled his hopes for a possible lead. He knocked on the front door several times, but there was no answer. Just as he was about to leave, an elderly man opened the door slightly.

"Yes?" He asked as he held the door close to him.

"I beg your pardon, but could you possibly tell me if a woman by the name of Amala Sanxay still resides here?"

"There's no one here by that name," he answered abruptly.

"Have you lived here long?" Nadir questioned.

"I've lived here long enough," the man voiced with agitation.

"There must be some confusion because I was told _this_ was her home," Nadir insisted.

"Well I'm telling you nobody is here but me. Now go away!" The old man clamored, shutting the door quickly.

"Wait!" Nadir called from outside of the door, knocking to try and get his attention. Unfortunately, his efforts went unanswered.

He scanned his surroundings and spotted a cluster of large rocks, a few yards from the side of the house. _"I think I'll stay awhile"_ he thought as he made his way up the mountainside. He couldn't help but sense something was amiss.

* * *

Khadim grumbled under his breath as he walked away from the incessant stranger at the door. 

"What do you think he wanted?" She asked curiously.

"I'm not sure, but we must _always_ remain cautious of those we do not know," he reminded her. "You should be resting. Return to your quarters and I'll have Omar bring you some tea."

* * *

Darius and Valente made it back from Menara before Nadir had returned from Taddert. They weren't quite sure how he would take the news they had come across. As both men sat in the courtyard discussing their newly found knowledge, Nadir walked up from the pathway and took a seat beside them. 

"So what news do you two have from Menara?" He asked, wiping the beads of sweat from his brow with his handkerchief.

"We did not obtain much information, but it was enough, given the magnitude," Valente expressed.

"Well?" He questioned, stretching his legs out before him.

"Amala has been deceased for many years now, sir. The hospital staff told us that her servant had brought her home to die in peace," Darius explained.

"Is that so?" Nadir rubbed at his chin, resting his head against the chair. "Prepare Erik's quarters," he ordered. "I expect his arrival by dawn."

He turned away, saying nothing more as he focused on the hue of silken colors giving way to the night sky. Darius and Valente looked at one another in confusion as they got up and left Nadir to his musings.

Nadir pondered the information he was given and the events he witnessed while in Taddert. His suspicions became more and more aroused, leaving his mind restless with unanswered questions._ "If she's truly dead, then who was that woman I spotted with that old fellow from the sanctuary of the mountainside and why did he tell me he lived alone?"_ Another trip to Taddert would be needed to satisfy his inflamed curiosity.

* * *

**Author's Note **  
I've updated a wee bit early, but I'm sure nobody will mind, right? -smiles- Thanks again to my readers that reviewed and continue to support me. -hugs- The story will pick up within the next couple of updates, so be sure to strap yourselves in for the ride! 


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

The morning sun slowly rose over the desert sands of Morocco, just as Erik found himself in Marrakech. He made his way to the riad where Nadir was at and was relieved to finally be able to dismount his flea ridden beast. Walking through the courtyard and up the stone steps, he came upon Nadir's door and knocked.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Nadir made his way hazily to the door and opened it slightly. "Ah, Erik, you are here! Praise, Allah!" he said sincerely as he opened the door fully and invited him in.

"Where _else_ would I be, Daroga?" Erik rolled his eyes as he stepped in, stripping his vest from his body. "I would rather be in Melun making love to my wife instead of basking in this _accursed_ humidity." He took a seat on a large tri-colored pillow before he questioned his foreign brother. "So, what is it that you simply _had_ to tell me in person?" he said archly, raising an eyebrow to Nadir.

Nadir took a seat next to him, crossing his legs and rubbing at the stubble upon his chin. "There is no way to put this delicately, my friend. What I have to say will come as quite a shock."

"Just come out with it, Daroga. I just traveled across Morocco on a camel. Need I _remind _you how uncomfortable those creatures are?" Erik scowled as he gathered a few of the smaller pillows underneath him.

"It's about your mother," Nadir said, squinting his eyes a bit, preparing for an outburst.

"What about her? She's dead, thankfully." Erik stated evenly.

"I speak of your _true_ mother," Nadir continued.

"What is this nonsense? Madeleine died five years after I fled that so called home," he stated flatly, looking at Nadir as if he had gone mad.

Nadir returned his gaze without blinking and said, "_She_ was not your mother, Erik."

Exhausted from his travels, Erik was in no mood for games. He tried hard to rationalize the information he was given, and he trusted his long time friend not to deceive him, but still found it difficult to process. "I suppose you have _proof _of this? You _do_ have proof, do you not?" he questioned sternly.

Nadir got up and walked over to his desk. Going through the top drawer, he gathered the paperwork and returned to Erik. "These are Valente's as well as my own deductions. I suggest you go through them and come to your own conclusions." He handed the items to Erik and continued, "Go and unpack your things, my friend, and take these with you. Darius has prepared the room next to mine. I will be here once you have had time alone with your thoughts."

"Very well," Erik said dubiously, slowly getting to his feet.

* * *

Erik entered his room and reluctantly set the bundle of papers aside on a small mosaic table by the door. He would be sure to go over them once he cleaned himself up and got some rest, just not now. Walking into the bedroom, he placed his belongings onto the moorish arched bench and then proceeded into the bathroom, drawing himself a hot bath. He lit several large candles and then began to undress as the water rose. Settling wearily into the tub, he submerged himself completely beneath the water, letting out a long sigh when he finally surfaced. The glow of the candlelight flickered across the rose tinted granite, as he watched the shadows dance above him, through the steam. _"My true birth mother?" _ He closed his eyes and thought back on his youth. _"Was my living nightmare all just a lie?" _He placed his hand up to the marred side of his face. _"This certainly is real enough." _ He smirked inwardly. _"Nadir must be mistaken. Nevertheless I will hear him out, and read his findings no matter how far-fetched. Then I will return home to my angel, Christine, and bury my painful past forever more."_

* * *

Madame Giry and Meg arrived at The House of Roses just in time to join Christine for dinner. She had only expected Madame Giry, but Meg was a welcomed surprise for her. 

"It is so good to see you both! With Erik gone, I could use the company," she smiled, as she led them to the dinning room.

They ate together and happily chatted about recent events in the city. As soon as they were done eating, Madame Giry excused herself to unpack her belongings in her room in the west wing. Meanwhile, Meg and Christine made their way out onto the stone terrace enjoying their tea and the warmth of the summer night.

"It truly is beautiful out here, mon ami," Meg said as she held her teacup gingerly between her hands.

"Erik and I always spend our evenings out here just before bedtime." She wistfully looked up into the star covered night and thought of her Angel of Music.

Meg could see the sorrow in her dear friend's eyes as they reflected against the starlight. She seized the moment to take her mind off of her husband. "Christine, there is something I have been meaning to ask you. Will you be my Maid of Honor?" Meg asked, almost shyly.

She turned to Meg with an excited smile. "Oh, Meg! Yes, I would love to! Have you and Raoul set a date?"

"Oui, it's scheduled for next weekend," Meg smiled. She pulled out an invitation from her dress pocket and handed it to her.

Christine noticed the fine gold filament embossing of Erik's name beside hers on the envelope and her smile slowly faded.

Meg reached for Christine's shoulder and said in a comforting voice, "I know you miss him, but try not to worry so. Erik will be safe and back in your arms soon."

She smiled slightly at Meg, remembering the many nights at the opera house when she had missed her father and Meg would stay up with her late into the night to console her. The girl always had a way of easing her troubles and for that Christine was truly thankful.

"I know you're right, Meg, but I can't help but miss him so," she sighed heavily, grasping the envelope in her hands.

Meg wrapped her arms around her and hugged her consolingly, trying to comfort her friend in her obvious time of need. Eventually Christine calmed herself, and insisted Meg stay the night as it was getting late. Meg happily accepted. After all, she enjoyed the roominess of The House of Roses. Erik's luxurious taste was definitely spoiling.

"Let's shop for your dress tomorrow, Christine!" Meg said enthusiastically.

Christine smiled and agreed with Meg as they raced each other up the steps of the west wing, giggling. They always enjoyed shopping in the city together. _"Besides, it will do her some good to get out of the house and enjoy a sunny day in Paris,"_ Meg concluded to herself.

**

* * *

**

Erik woke shivering in the chill of the now much cooler water. He wondered how long he had dozed off for, trying to estimate it by the burned down candles. He climbed out of the tub and reached for his robe, tying it around himself loosely. Walking over to the bed, he contemplated continuing his rest, but his thoughts dwelled upon the papers Nadir had given him. With his curiosity piqued, he walked into the main room and gathered the documents and journals from the small table and retreated back into the bedroom. Bringing them to rest on the bed, he sat down before them and began to scan through each one, almost fearful of what he was about to discover.

**Father: Painter, Eugène Delacroix -Deceased, buried in Père Lachaise Cemetery, Paris.  
Notes- Traveled abroad often, to study various cultures, meeting Amala in Morocco.**

**Mother: Singer, Amala Sanxay –Whereabouts unknown.**  
**Notes- Sang for the Sultan's court. Married and relocated to Paris, returning to Morocco after separating from Eugène.  
Last known employer: The Marrakech School of Arts.**

"Amala Sanxay?" Erik pondered. "Who on earth is that, and why does Nadir think she's my mother? What of Madeleine?" He asked himself, his brow furrowing in concentration.

**Erik: Son of Eugène and Amala -Pronounced lost in house fire along with nursemaid.  
Notes- Refer to Madeleine's Diary -Provided by her last known servant, Simonette.**

Looking onto the bed, Erik spotted a smaller, worn book amongst the pile. Picking it up, he noted it was indeed labeled as Madeleine's diary. Thumbing through the pages, he began to read its contents.

**_My darling, Charles, I am still having a difficult time without you. I can't believe you're actually gone. Why did you have to leave me? I don't know how I'm supposed to go on and raise our child that grows within me, alone._ **

Her husband, he learned, was a master mason, but had died an untimely death after receiving a severe injury at one of the building sites he was working at.

**_I haven't been feeling well. The stress is no doubt to blame. I miss you, Charles! Simonette keeps telling me I should take leave of my work duties for the baby's sake. She doesn't understand that I need to keep myself busy. Everything reminds me of you, especially our home. She thinks I don't know how to care for myself and our unborn child's needs. This child is all I have left of you, Charles._ **

Reading on, it seemed due to her emotional distress from Charles's demise, Madeleine miscarried her child a mere three weeks after his death.

_**My baby! I lost our baby! What am I to do now? It's not fair that people like Amala could give birth to such a beautiful healthy boy. I was to have a boy… a boy as beautiful as Erik.**_

Erik nearly dropped the journal in surprise, reading his name in the book. Madeleine had been employed as the nursemaid for this Amala woman and apparently had steadily begun to grow attached to him as a child.

_**There's something about Erik that calls to me. Simonette says I should think about taking a vacation, especially after losing our child, but I couldn't bear to be without Erik. He's calming to me, Charles. I need to be with him and he needs me to take care of him.**_

Erik noticed the writings within the pages became more desperate and disjointed with every entry.

_**It has to be done. He belongs with me. That woman has no sense... no idea of his beauty. She works when she should be at home with him. He needs someone. He needs to be with me. I'm taking him with me tonight. They'll never know. They'll never know. It'll be better this way.**_

There were tears in Erik's eyes as he continued reading on. She had set fire to the Delacroix home to be able to steal away into the night with him. Scrambling through the blaze, the baby's face had partially been burned due to the blanket catching fire. Madeleine herself did not know how badly until arriving at her home, just outside of Rouen.

_**That damn fire almost did me and the baby in… my boy, my Erik. He's been burned, but I'll take care of it. I'm his mother now. His mother…**_

The next entry indicated weeks had gone by and her mental state began to obviously unravel. She had not gotten proper medical attention for the child's face and therefore it had gotten worse.

_**Simonette insists I take the baby to a doctor and back to his parents. Isn't that absurd? He's mine! She'd be wise to keep her mouth shut. I took her in off the streets. I reminded her. She won't tell. "No one will miss you," I warned her. She won't tell. I'll take care of you, Erik. Don't worry. Mother is here now.**_

The journal recounted how she removed a few sections of skin that had become infected, trying to prevent it from spreading any further.

_**I cut away a few pieces of skin today. I had to! Poor, Erik! It'll get better. I promise. It's just a small burn. How bad can it get?**_

Erik stifled a sob and continued reading. A week went by before her next entry.

**_This baby won't stop crying. Doesn't he know I'm trying to take care of him? Just a little more skin… just a little more._ **

Two weeks later, another small entry.

_**More skin… more skin… I have to get it all. Keep it clean. Stop crying, Erik!**_

Erik trembled, his pain giving way and a slow rage mounting. Another two weeks passed before resuming her ramblings.

_**He's driving me insane. I've almost got it all. He just needs to shut up long enough for me to finish! I just need to keep cutting. It'll be over in the morning.**_

Finally, he read, she had had enough of the horror unfolding before her. The wails of the child's cries every time she cut into him had driven her over the edge. The entire right side of the Erik's face was practically exposed to the bone and only half of his nose remained after she had overcompensated with her knife. This once flawless child was now hardly recognizable, save for the perfect left side. She forced Erik into Simonette's care and told her she would be taking responsibility of the boy.

_**Ungrateful little bastard! Why do I bother? All it does is cry! It won't shut up! I don't want to hear it anymore. I can't stand to look at it! My God, it doesn't even look human! He's dead, Charles. Erik is dead and all I have left is this thing! I'll make Simonette take care of it for awhile. Maybe I should take that vacation now. Lyon is nice this time of year. Remember when we vacationed there, Charles? Beautiful… peaceful….**_

Scanning over the rest of the entries, it seems when Madeleine returned a month later from Lyon, she wanted nothing more to do with Erik. She went to church every Sunday hoping to gain redemption from God. She went about her life, refusing to even acknowledge the boy when Simonette asked for her help. She kept him locked away in his room whenever she was home. She only saw the boy to make sure the masks that she had prepared for him were always the right size to accompany his growth. She beat him on several occasions when he attempted to remove it and each time she threatened him to never take it off. She never wanted to subject herself to the monstrosity she had created; her punishment for her crimes.

Erik slammed the diary shut and threw it across the room, in utter disgust. His entire frame trembled as he brought a shaky hand to rest against his marred face. _"So, I was not **born** with this disfigurement, but **given** it!"_ A tide of emotions ran through Erik's body and mind. Angrily, his eyes focused onto a document that Nadir had recently notated. Trying his best to steady his hand, he picked it up and read the last few lines.

**Marrakech School of Arts: Received an old address, known to be Amala's last place of residence. It appears to be in the town of Taddert.**

**Taddert: Arriving at the residence, I encountered an elderly man who claimed to live alone, but I found this not to be the case upon observing the home from afar. There is also an elderly woman residing within. I must journey once again to Taddert. There are questions that need answering.**

Erik's face was covered with tears. He didn't realize he had been crying until his teardrops met the paper he held within his hands, smudging the ink. "_Could that woman be her, my real mother?_" Erik knew Nadir had always had a keen sense of observing people. He had always been flawless in his calculations, during their time in Persia together. If Nadir suspected more, then there was more to be sure.

A knock at his door brought him from his deepest thoughts. He wiped at his tears and walked to the door, securing his robe around him. Nadir stood before him and upon seeing his old friend's face, he knew Erik had gone through the documents.

"Erik, I…" Nadir paused uncomfortably as Erik interrupted him.

"My mother… is she alive?" he asked, trying to remain calm.

"I'm not certain," Nadir answered honestly.

"You're _not _certain? You'd better _be _certain about this, Daroga!" Erik demanded with an intense gleam in his eye.

"Darius and Valente heard news that she had passed, but I have my reservations," Nadir alleged.

Erik stepped to within inches of the Persians face, eyeing Nadir with a steely glare. "You _know_ how I feel about assumptions! My patience wears thin! Tell me what I need to know before I make the devil himself seem like a saint in comparison to my wrath!"

Erik's emotions ran high and Nadir had expected as much, but never had he seen the flames of hellfire burn so fiercely in Erik's eyes as it did at that moment. From behind the mask the illusion only intensified, sending a deathly chill into his bones. Finding his voice, Nadir pressed back, "We must travel to the town of Taddert. Prepare yourself my friend, for I did not bring you down here to relive your pain. I brought you so that your soul may be in peace finally knowing the truth. You want answers? We'll find them together. We leave immediately and Allah forgive any fool who attempts to stop us."

* * *

**Author's Note**  
I hope you all approve of this chapter. I'd gone through several revisions before I was happy enough to post it. The next update should be just as good. I might actually get that one posted sooner, so keep an eye out for it. Everyone's continued support is truly humbling. I can't stress that enough. I wouldn't be here without you all. -Phantom kisses for everyone!- Thank you!**  
**


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

Nadir acquired two Barb horses from a stable nearby, while Erik readied himself for the journey. He wanted to make sure that their trip was not only comfortable, compared to the camel, but much more efficient. The great hardiness and stamina of this particular breed would provide them both with swift passage to Taddert.

Erik intently made his way down from the second-story of the riad, walking with a purpose, as if the dogs of war were nipping at his heels. He met with Nadir as he strode up into the courtyard with both horses in tow. Within the blink of an eye, Erik mounted the majestic black beauty and began to stroke its thick shiny mane.

"I went over your notes regarding Taddert. Are you certain there are only two?" Erik asked, checking his waist and securing his Punjab lasso.

"We'll have to survey the premises further. You know the routine, old boy," Nadir answered as he got onto his horse. "Let's get some answers first, before you…" The gallop of Erik's horse was all Nadir heard before he could finish.

* * *

After several hours of travel across the barren terrain, they reached their destination. Nadir indicated a solitary manor up along the mountainside, above the town of Taddert. Dismounting and securing their horses, they made their way up toward the home. 

"Go around back, Erik. I'll see if I can be welcomed in _this_ time," Nadir suggested with a smirk. "If not, then we do it your way."

Erik glared at the Persian for a moment before swirling his cape around him dramatically, retreating toward the back of the home.

* * *

Nadir knocked on the door, trying his best to appear as casual as possible. As anticipated, the elderly man came to the door and addressed him. 

"You again! Back so soon? I told you already that…" Khadim was silenced by Nadir's raised hand, waving the old man to be silent.

"I remember what you _told _me, but this time I'd like the truth." Nadir eyed him with precision.

"The _truth_ was given to you on your last visit, _which_ was certainly as unwelcome then as it is now!" As Khadim moved to close the door, Nadir pressed his hand against it, preventing him from following through.

"You _will_ tell me what I need to know." Nadir stated firmly, tapping the hilt of the blade at his side suggestively. "One way or another, I am not leaving without some answers."

Nervously, Khadim relented, "No need for that, good sir. Let us settle this like gentlemen, shall we? But before I allow your entrance into my home, as a gesture of trust, I would appreciate if you would leave your weapon on the table by the door. Then we may proceed into the sitting room and speak more rationally." His head bowed as a show of respect and fear toward Nadir.

"_He is but an old man and I can easily take this fellow with my own bare hands if need be." _Nadir concluded confidently, reaching for his weapon. Khadim breathed a little easier as the stranger relinquished his Jambiya from his side. Trembling slightly, he led the Persian down the hallway.

* * *

Erik made his way around the side of the home and noticed an open window, low to the ground and large enough for him to easily pass through. Disregarding Nadir's instructions, he climbed into the window with cat-like precision and silence. 

He found himself within a small storage room, filled with crates and barrels of various sizes. Making his way past the items and toward the door, he cracked it open slightly, evaluating the surroundings on the other side. He spied an alcove adjacent to the sitting room, where he could hear Nadir and another man conversing quietly. With lightning speed, he moved to the alcove and positioned himself to be able to hear what they were saying.

* * *

"I _know _you to be Madame Sanxay's servant. Do not _try_ to deny it," Nadir boldly bluffed, hoping the old man would reveal more. 

Khadim was quick to answer, "I am no ones servant _and _my privacy, sir, is my own". His outward cringing demeanor suddenly changed. Standing tall and looking Nadir straight in the eyes, he smiled. "Why you _choose _to disrupt me for a second time I'll never understand. Now, tell me _why_ I should not let Omar gut you like a pig?" His eyes gazed over Nadir's shoulder.

Swiftly turning his head toward the door, Nadir noticed a large hulk of a man fondling the very knife he had left on the table moments ago.

"Is _this_ how you handle things like a gentleman?" Nadir spun back around and asked, outraged by how foolishly he'd been deceived.

"I do what I must," Khadim answered simply and continued. "Now, see to it that you do not return again. I trust that you '_get the point_' this time," he chuckled. The old man nodded his head and motioned for Omar to escort the Persian out.

Thinking quick to change the situation in his favor, Nadir said, "You need not be so elusive. The hospital staff in Menara has informed me of your position as Madame Sanxay's servant."

Omar took Nadir by the arm and pulled him in the direction of the door as Khadim shook his head and answered to him, "I see they failed to mention that she has passed away some time ago, so I fear your search is in vain."

"I don't think that it is. I know there to be a woman residing within this home. It's a matter of urgency that I speak with her." Nadir stubbornly stated as Khadim turned his back on the pair.

Angrily, Khadim turned around to face them. "You are insane! Did you _not_ hear what I said? She is no more! I grow tired of this. Begone from my house!"

As Omar reached for the handle of the door, Nadir called out in desperation, "For whatever reasons you have for keeping her secrets, I assure you, I mean her no harm. I only wish to tell her about her son!"

Omar stopped his movements and looked to Khadim with extreme confusion as his master did the same. The old man came toe to toe with Nadir. "She has no son. He died years ago in Paris. If she _were_ alive, she'd curse your name to eternal hell for attempting to renew her pain." Scowling in disgust he continued. "I don't know what kind of games you are playing, but I assure you it is not warranted here. Amala is no longer living, so if you would be so kind as to take your leave now. I _do_ believe I've answered enough of your questions."

* * *

From behind the secret wall, _she _listened, with curiosity at first, and then with extreme intensity. _"How **dare** this intruder try to use the sanctity of my dead son to see if I am still living!" _Appalled at what she was hearing, she continued to listen as the argument arose.

* * *

Almost out the door, Nadir shouted, "Amala's son is very much alive!" 

"Impossible! Khadim said adamantly.

* * *

She stifled a sob hearing that painful and outrageous claim. "_Impossible!" _ her thoughts echoed simultaneously from behind her safe haven. She slid the false wall away slightly to get a look at the man who claimed her son to be living, but before she had the chance to glance into the sitting room, she spotted a dark figure looming in the alcove before her. She looked him over as he was unaware of her presence. She noticed the man to be of strong build and as he turned his right ear to listen to the men before him, she saw his face. She threw her hand over her mouth in shock. _"Eugène? My God, these old eyes of mine are playing tricks on me!"_ She carefully inspected the hiding stranger, noting the uncanny physical resemblance to that of her late husband. Her will was strong, but something compelled her toward him as if in a hypnotic state. She passed quietly from the opening of the false wall and brought her hand up to grasp the man's shoulder.

* * *

Lost in his observation of Nadir and the two men, Erik hadn't noticed he himself was under a scrutinized eye. With the reflexes of a fox, he quickly grabbed the hand which sat upon his shoulder and spun himself around, his cape billowing around his frame in haste. He clasped his other hand over the old woman's mouth and he stared her down from behind his mask. 

The mask had come as a surprise to Amala, but strangely enough, she was unafraid of this man who now loomed over her with such intensity. She went over his features with her eyes as Erik held her gaze. Without consciously realizing it, she brought her left hand up to rest upon his concealed visage.

For some unknown reason, despite his own better judgment, Erik did not flinch. He saw her reach for his mask and yet did not prevent her from doing so. Something sat heavy within his chest and as if mesmerized, all he could do was allow this woman to continue.

As she slowly peeled away his mask, revealing his disfigurement to her, he noticed she did not shy away from him as so many others had over the years. The mask fell to the floor beside him as she continued to inspect both sides of his face with her hand. Erik slowly brought his hand down from over her mouth as he felt her mouth incoherent words.

"You… you _are_ my son…" she uttered in amazement as she continued her caress of his face.

It was too much for him. Sweeping down to retrieve his mask, Erik bolted from his concealment, retreating out of the house through the window from whence he came. Her words followed him as he fled, lost in a haze of emotions.

"Please! Wait!" Amala called after him, drawing the attention of the three men in the hall of the main room. Trembling, she fell to her knees and began to cry.

"You should not be out, Madame!" Khadim voiced with concern. He and Omar ran to Amala's side, gently bringing her to her feet and into the sitting room. They carefully placed her onto the soft mosharabian sofa. Nadir ran to the front door, only to catch a glimpse of Erik's cape as he disappeared from view. He rushed back over to the sitting room and addressed the three.

"I shall return momentarily," Nadir said softly. He looked to Amala, "Madame Delacroix," he bowed deeply and turned, quickly making his way out of the house.

* * *

As he hurried down the mountainside, Nadir watched Erik mount his horse in the distance. 

"Erik, wait!" he called to him, only to watch him take off in frenzy. The sand the Barb had kicked up looked like a mini dust storm as Nadir finally found himself before his steed. He mounted his horse and made a frantic effort to catch up to Erik, pushing the beast to its limits.

The Persian finally found himself within eyeshot of his masked companion. He spurred the horse on, closing the distance between them. Erik glanced over his shoulder and spotted Nadir in pursuit. He was not ready to face his friend yet. Not until he regained some measure of composure over his feelings. Nudging the horse's sides with his heels, he urged the animal swiftly onward.

Nadir pushed on as the gap between them lessened considerably. "I will follow you to the ends of the earth if need be! You will have to stop this cat and mouse game sooner or later! You _know_ I am the better horseman, Erik!" Nadir called out to him.

Erik abruptly pulled on the reigns of his horse, stopping it dead in its tracks. Nadir followed suit as Erik sprung from his horse, landing to his feet.

"Why? _Why_ is this happening now? I don't want to deal with this! I can't!" Erik said in an uproar, pacing the desert floor like a madman. "You don't know what I've been through, Daroga! You can't know! And now, this! All my life I've only known of one thing and now to even entertain the thought that it could have all been different is too much! I can't change my past. As much as it is now apparently a lie it was still very much a reality for me!" He stopped his pacing; his breath coming in rapid bursts as he attempted to calm himself.

Finally, he closed his eyes, lowering his head and continuing. "It matters not if she is my mother, Daroga. My life until Christine was a series of one nightmare after another. There is nothing for me in my past. I've gone far beyond the point of no return in that regard."

Placing an arm around Erik's shoulders, Nadir tried to comfort him. "It's not her fault or yours that this happened. I won't make excuses to the reasons why, but it has happened and it is behind you now. I felt you needed to know this, to be a whole person. As long as I've known you, you have never been at peace. What paths you choose are your own, old boy, but do not make a decision that will haunt you for the rest of your days."

Stepping away and walking to his horse, Nadir said in parting, "Your future is what you make of it and I truly feel a piece of that future lies before you in Taddert."

With that, the Daroga wheeled his horse around and headed back to the home on the hillside, leaving Erik to his own thoughts.

* * *

Omar answered the door as Nadir knocked once again. With a glance back at Khadim, who nodded, the door was opened for the returning Persian. Walking into the sitting room he noticed Amala was no longer there. 

"She's resting now. It seems your _friend _has given her enough excitement to last the rest of her lifetime, what little there's left of it." Khadim said mournfully.

"What are you saying?" Nadir asked, puzzled.

"She's dying, mister..." Khadim furrowed his brow realizing he had not ever bothered getting the strangers name.

"Khan, Nadir Khan," he quickly informed him.

"I am Khadim Rahmat and that large fellow there is my servant, Omar Fahid." The men exchanged tentative handshakes before Khadim continued. "What the Madame has gone through since her return from France has been very trying on her."

Nadir looked to Khadim curiously.

Khadim cocked his head to the side, viewing Nadir's demeanor. "You have no idea, do you?"

Khadim ordered his servant to make some tea and bring it out into the garden, motioning to Nadir to follow him. He began to tell Nadir of the day he came into his mistress's service and the events that led them to where they were today.

Nadir was dumbfounded at what he was being told. It was unbelievable that so much misfortune could surround one man. _"How is Erik to deal with this?"_

_

* * *

_Returning to the home on the hill, Erik watched as Nadir and Khadim sat in the garden. Not wanting to announce himself, he slipped back into the window at the side of the house and made his way once more to the alcove. He felt along the false wall and found the catch that allowed him entrance. He slid the wall back and disappeared beyond it.

He found himself within a small hall and at the end was a door. Turning the knob, he cautiously pushed the door open slightly. What he saw in the room before him caught his eye. It was brightly lit and filled with many pieces of art, musical instruments, and ethnic antiquities. He stared in awe, admiring all the wondrous pieces. The door slowly opened all the way and he was brought back to his senses, as he heard her speak.

"Come and sit with me awhile," Amala called to him realizing he hadn't seen her.

He hesitantly made his way to the chair that sat beside the wrought iron bed. He took a seat nervously and stared beyond her, to a painting on the wall, unable and unwilling to meet her eyes.

"You don't have to say a thing, if you don't want to," she said softly.

Erik reluctantly faced her and said, "I… I…" He could barely speak as he turned his head away from her once more and focused back onto the painting.

Amala sighed as she spoke again. "I don't know how you came to be before me now, but whatever the reasons it's truly a blessing from God."

"There is no God," Erik muttered darkly. "You had a nursemaid by the name of Madeleine," Erik said as he stood up from the chair and walked over to the painting that held his attention. "Your home in Paris caught fire and you believed her to be dead along with your baby." He caressed the frame of the portrait and continued, "That fire was no accident. It was Madeleine that set your home ablaze. She took your child and claimed him as her own." He brought his hand back, as if burned by the vibrant colors and turned to Amala, slowly approaching her and finished his words, "She left me with _this_…" he whipped the mask from his face, pointing out his disfigurement to her.

Amala had begun to cry thinking back on the day of the fire. Her husband had always blamed her for their loss and in truth she blamed herself as well.

They both sought each other with their eyes. The tragedy of it all was obvious within their stares. His face was filled with anguish as he fell to his knees beside the bed and wept into his hands. She laid a frail hand on top of his head comfortingly.

"Your face holds no horror for me, if that is what you were expecting. My heart knows you as my son no matter what imperfections you may have."

Erik never experienced a mother's love. He believed Madeleine to be his mother, but now this woman before him _was_ his mother, a true mother that held love for her child. _"As a mother should."_ He always believed this but it had never been a part of his life. Amala had seen his face and yet she still loved him. It was almost inconceivable. He took her hand in his, trying to understand it all. Tears came pouring down as they never had before, tears he had held for all the years of torment, anguish, and abuse that riddled his youth, but most of all because of a love he had never had before and never thought would be his. A love of a mother.

Time seemed to stand still, as they shed their tears in silence. Amala eventually spoke up, breaking the quiet calm of the room. "If only your father had lived to be able to look upon you with his own eyes." She sighed wistfully.

"Can… will…" Erik tried his best to form his words, but found it hard after such an emotional breakdown.

"You wish to know about your father…" Amala sensed, without a doubt. Erik simply nodded to confirm what she already knew.

"Your father was a gifted painter that could manipulate any canvas into a work of art. I noticed as you came in that you have admiration for his pieces, especially that one there." She pointed at the portrait that Erik had been fixated upon, minutes earlier. "All of these are by his hand. It was your father's great talent that brought him to Morocco. He was commissioned by the Sultan for his artistic genius, as was I. That is how we met. He became enamored with my singing. When he was not painting, he spent his time getting to know me and learning the culture. We became great friends, but soon he had to travel back to Paris. I didn't think I would see him again, but after several years he came back for me. He proposed and I accepted, following him to Paris shortly after. We did not think it was possible to have our children, since we had tried for several years, but we did..." Amala began to cough, as she struggled to finish her words. Erik reached for the pitcher that sat on the bedside table and poured her a glass of water. He brought her up slightly, supporting her back as he brought the glass to her lips. He settled her back down carefully and then brought the glass back to rest onto the table.

There was a moment of silence between them before Erik carefully asked in confusion, "Our _children_?" He wondered at the implications of the plural usage.

"Yes," Amala cleared her throat as she closed her eyes and finished in a whisper, "your sister, Erik, your twin sister, Alhena." Exhausted from the events of the day, she drifted quietly off to sleep.

Erik slowly rose and walked over to the painting he was observing earlier, a portrait of a woman holding two children. There was no mention of this in the documents he read. Erik paused trying to grasp the strange concept of having a sibling. The day was proving to be filled with one surprise after the next. First he had a mother and now he had a sister too. _"But where is she?"_

_

* * *

_

**Author's Note **  
Where is she, indeed! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. I had fun writing it up and it actually ended up writing itself at the end. I didn't even plan it that way. I guess we'll see what happens in the next update. Tune in next week! Same Phantom time... same Phantom channel! Also, I apologize for not updating sooner. I know I said I would try on the last update, but I got swamped during the week with Gerry Butler fan vid composing.


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6**

Meg and Christine had spent the afternoon going from shop to shop and trying on different dresses along Paris's most fashionable boutiques. They unfortunately found nothing to their liking, as they continued down the street, stopping before The Golden Spool. The girls glanced through the large storefront window and spied Raoul in quite an uncomfortable pose before his mother and Lissette. They giggled at poor Raoul being pinned, as his mother dictated their destination. Raoul glanced up toward the window, as their giggling grew into a fit of laughter.

"Ladies, I'm so _glad _I can entertain you, but could you please come in now before you give all of Paris something to gossip about," Raoul muttered, as he tried to signal them to come in. He let out a yelp, just as the girls made their entrance. "For heaven's sake!" He cried.

"Raoul, try to be still. I wish my future husband to be in one piece," Meg winked.

Anaïs was thrilled to see Meg and Christine. She threw her arms around them warmly and smiled. "What brings the two of you here? Is everything alright?"

"Oui, everything is fine, Marquise," Christine answered.

"Well, not exactly _everything_," Meg added, wrinkling her nose.

Furrowing his brow in concern, Raoul asked, "What do you mean, little Meg?"

"Christine and I have searched all day for a dress for her. She has agreed to be my Maid of Honor at our wedding," Meg happily announced.

"That's wonderful news! I'm glad you have accepted, Christine," Raoul smiled, clapping his hands together, suddenly wincing as the movement caused several pins to find their mark into his skin.

"Fantastique! You must have Lissette make your dress!" Anaïs exclaimed.

"I should be able to find something. Really, please don't go to the trouble," Christine replied hesitantly.

"Nonsense! It's no trouble, right Lissette?" Anaïs looked to her seamstress, who was finishing up her work.

"Oui, Marquise, no trouble," Lissette answered simply as she placed the final pin in Raoul's jacket. Anaïs looked her son over and nodded, while Meg pulled Christine aside and whispered in her ear.

"Accept her offer, Christine. We'll be here all day if you don't, _trust_ me." Meg squeezed her shoulder earnestly.

Anaïs turned her attention back toward the girls and said, "Well now, shall we look over some fabrics?"

Christine looked at Meg, viewing the intense expression behind her eyes. Turning to face the Marquise, Christine smiled and accepted the offer. Anaïs grabbed the girls' hands and brought them to a nearby table, as Lissette brought out several different bolts of fabric.

"Wise decision you've made accepting my mother's offer, Christine," Raoul smirked, while attempting to carefully remove his jacket. He hissed aloud as a pin stuck his arm regardless. Raoul let out a drawn out sigh, as the ladies before him covered their mouths trying to suppress their giggles to no avail.

* * *

Ranier and Guifford spent their time shopping for a pair of suits, as the Comte was having his uniform altered. 

"I _bet _the fool is still in there," Ranier laughed.

Guifford chuckled alongside him as they both thought back on the image of the Comte, whining like a little girl while being fitted. They secured their own suits within the carriage and made their way back to The Golden Spool. They positioned themselves outside of a small café, slightly adjacent to the storefront. Seating themselves within view of the seamstress's shop, they hid behind the morning newspaper.

Several minutes passed before Ranier spoke up. "Go inside and get us something to eat and some wine, if they have it. We may be here awhile."

Guifford nodded and stood up. He was hoping they'd be able to get something to eat. His stomach grumbled beneath his large belly.

"And Guifford?" Ranier called in a cautioning tone. Just as he was about to step into the café, Guifford turned to face his companion. "Don't over do it on the _food_, you great oaf!" Ranier ruffled the newspaper sharply, as he turned the page.

* * *

It was not long before Christine settled on a cream and gold silk. It happened to have been in the first batch of rolled fabrics that Lissette had presented her with. Meg and Anaïs were overjoyed with her choice. It would match Meg's wedding dress perfectly. Lissette advised she would finish the dress with violet and baby blue ribbon, shaped in a floral pattern at Christine's request. The women were thrilled at the idea, as the image of the dress was laid out in their minds. 

Raul fidgeted uncomfortably, feeling a change of subject was needed. "A celebration is in order! I wish for all of you to join me at my estate. I'll have the cook prepare us some dinner," he suggested, eager to be away from The Golden Spool. _"I hope I never have to endure this humiliating torture ever again!"_

"I need to head back home, dearest." Anaïs assured her son. "Your father is expecting me, but I'm sure Christine and Meg would love to dine with you," she smiled knowingly.

"Please say you'll come, Christine," Meg implored her.

"How can you refuse such a plea?" Raoul asked Christine. They both looked upon Meg's playful display as she batted her eyes dramatically.

"I guess I can't, with a look like _that_," Christine teased Meg with a laugh and continued, "besides, it seems in all of today's activities, I'm feeling quite famished."

Meg squealed, throwing her arms around Christine and squeezed her tight. She was practically breathless as the little blonde Giry overwhelmed her. Raoul laughed at the two girls, draping an arm across each of their shoulders and encouraging them toward the door.

They said their goodbyes to the Marquise and then entered Raoul's carriage. "Take us home, Francois. These lovely ladies will be dining with me tonight," Raoul announced proudly.

"Very well, Comte," Francois said, tipping his hat to his master and flicking the reins.

As soon as they were off, Ranier and Guifford dashed to their own carriage and followed the Comte's while it drove away from the busy Parisian shopping district.

* * *

Ranier and Guifford returned to The Roost just before midnight, as the Comte's dinner guests finally left his estate. Upon entering his room, Ranier was surprised to find Sebastien and Jean awaiting him. 

"Did I _not _specify to have two rooms secured for myself and Jean?" Sebastien said, obviously irritated.

"Monsieur Laroche, I was not expecting the two of you until tomorrow," Ranier replied apologetically.

"We made good time from Lisieux, but that is not the point, Ranier!" Sebastien growled, as he stood within inches of Ranier's face. He grabbed onto his shirt collar and with a quick shove backwards, he released him saying, "No matter. I shall take your room and Jean shall take Guifford's. Collect your things as well as that bumbling idiot. I care not where you stay. You just won't be staying in here." He turned away from him, as Ranier nervously collected his things in haste.

* * *

Guifford followed clumsily as he held onto his and Ranier's belongings, all the while asking him as to where they would be sleeping for the night. It was late and the nearest inn was several miles away. Ranier just wanted to get some sleep. He stopped abruptly causing Guifford to fall back onto the stairs with the luggage and parcels following suit upon him. "Not another word, Guifford! I'm in no mood tonight!" He continued walking toward the direction of the backdoor that lead out to the stables. 

As Ranier reached their carriage, he climbed in and grabbed their belongings from his partner. After everything was secured within, he attempted to close the door, but found Guifford's large frame blocking the way.

"Where do you think _you're_ going, lummox?" Ranier pointed out toward the bales of hay in the corner. "You're over there," he finished, pushing Guifford out of the way. He slammed the carriage door and prepared himself for a night of unrest.

* * *

Erik briefly contemplated the image of having a normal upbringing, with a family that cared for him and a sister to grow up with. That was not his reality though. He quickly shook those thoughts from his head, feeling foolish. As he was about to leave his mother to her rest, the door to the room opened. 

"What are _you_ doing here? How did you…" Omar was silenced by Amala.

"Omar, _this_ is my son, Erik."

Erik raised an eyebrow at the servant and bowed his lead slightly in acknowledgement.

"Are you alright?" Omar asked her, obviously confused.

"Quite alright, Omar. Please leave us. I'd like to spend what little time I have with my son. Let Khadim know he is here with me at my request."

"Yes, Madame." Omar bowed stiffly and left.

Erik walked over to his mother and sat beside the bed once again. "What ails you?"

"It is simply age. There's no cure for growing old." She replied with a heavy sigh.

He nodded, unsure of how to respond to that. "I see. Why is it that my _sister_ is not here to care for you?"

There was prolonged silence before Amala spoke, "I do not know where she is now."

"What do you mean?" Erik asked, puzzled.

"After your father and I separated, I returned to Morocco with your sister and we were welcomed in by the Sultan who had always praised me for my talents as a singer. He also had a daughter whom was close in age to my Alhena. I spent my days teaching at the music school in Marrakech and I also occasionally sang for the Sultan's court, but much of my time was spent keeping an eye on your sister and the Sultan's daughter. They were always sneaking off beyond the palace walls. Mostly they would just travel into the marketplace and play pranks on the vendors for entertainment. Those two girls together were very mischievous. I never told the Sultan of their nighttime adventures because I did not want them to get in trouble."

Amala paused, lost in her thoughts for a moment before continuing. "One particular night, they decided to follow two of the Sultan's personal guards and I followed them. I'll never forget what happened next. Two men grabbed the girls while they observed the Sultan's guards aiding the ambassador of the king of France. They were assembling a caravan of slaves, headed to a port in Safi. The Sultan was known to be against the uprising of the slave trade between Morocco and other foreign lands. If anyone was caught involved in such practices, especially members of his trusted staff, they would be subject to punishment, often leading to a painful death. I started to run to the palace in hopes to inform the Sultan to what was going on and to arrange a rescue of the girls, but I was spotted by one of the two guards and told if I was ever to alert the Sultan, I would be subjecting my daughter and his to death. With mute tears I could do nothing but watch them take the girls away."

Erik sat quietly, listening intently, as her story unfolded. He could see the pain and anger evident on his frail mother's face, as she recalled that night's events. "Please go on. What happened next?" he urged her.

"I returned to the palace and pretended like I knew nothing. As far as anyone was concerned the girls were just 'missing.' For several weeks, the Sultan had his people looking all over the city for word on them, but there were never any leads. I would see those two guards daily however, and they could see the guilt and worry evident in my eyes. It didn't take them long to decide I was a threat to their operation because of what I knew. Several 'accidents' began to take place and I feared for my life. I needed a way to be free to pursue Alhena's whereabouts without being tied down to the palace and under the watchful eyes of those treacherous guards. Khadim has always been my most faithful servant. It was he who aided me in faking an illness and soon after announced my death. He was able to use the body of a female vagrant to substitute for mine. He laid her to rest in a plot beside my mothers, in a small cemetery just outside of the village in Demnat."

Amala coughed briefly before she continued. "As suspected, it was not long before the gravesite was overturned to ensure there was in fact a body buried there. They believed it to be mine, but there have been times when we'd received strange visitors while we hid away here in Taddert. I believe your sister and the Sultan's daughter were part of a caravan riding across the Sahara headed for Bornu. I was able to confirm that much at least. The operation has been able to keep a very covert profile and there hasn't been much information since then. It's becoming more dangerous as of late for Omar to continue with his investigation alone and Khadim is in no state to be traveling across the country as he did in his youth. Somewhere though, those girls are out there and they need help." She finished finally, closing her eyes once more.

Erik needed some time with his thoughts after his mother's revelations. He pulled her covers up higher, suggesting she get some rest, and quietly excused himself. Amala did not question him. She knew that all he had taken in would be difficult for him.

* * *

Nadir spotted Erik leaving the false wall of the alcove and exit into the garden. He got up from the sitting room and followed him outside. 

"She told you, didn't she?" Nadir stated. He watched as Erik nodded; his back to the Persian.

"Do you still wish to damn me for bringing you here to Morocco? For bringing Amala into your life?" Nadir asked seriously.

"I've spent much of my life with my trials and it was not until Christine that I found some semblance of normalcy and even _that _came with a price. I have overcome many hardships and just as I thought the worst was behind me, this happens. I'm tired of living a life full of turbulence. It's time to change my destiny once and for all."

"What is to be done then, Erik?" Nadir questioned

"You know me, Daroga. You know the sins of my past. Were this some scenario with random people you'd told me about happening somewhere, I could have easily walked away and lived with my conscience clean. You ask, what is to be done?" Erik turned to face his friend, his eyes gleaming. "We go get my sister and perhaps a little redemption for my soul."

* * *

**Author's Note **  
Next week, I'll be updating two chapters together, since I will be out of town during the 14th - 17th. Raoul and Meg's wedding is upon us and Erik's road to redemption begins (He sure does take a lot of trips, doesn't he?)! Thanks to everyone who took the time to review the last chapter. It's always nice to hear from you all. -hugs and masked kisses- 


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note **  
This is the wedding ceremony chapter. Erik has taken a small break from this update to allow Raoul and Meg to get married, finally! He'll be back in the next chapter, but sends everyone his love. -wink-**  
**

**CHAPTER 7**

It was two days before their wedding and Meg insisted on sticking with every tradition possible, especially the one about Raoul not seeing her the day before the ceremony. As they stood on the balcony overlooking the garden, Raoul held Meg from behind and she held tight to his arms about her.

"The evenings are quite serene here, aren't they?" Meg said, as she watched the water cascade down from the stone mermaid fountain beyond them.

Raoul rested his chin on her shoulder, inhaling the sweet scent of her perfume. He brushed her long golden hair aside, freeing the creamy skin of her neckline to his lips. He began to nuzzle it softly, pulling her closer to him from her waist. Meg closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation of his tender kisses upon her flesh.

"Raoul?" She breathed.

"Hmm?" He murmured back, continuing his passionate graze upon her neck.

"I should go…" she insisted sadly.

"Stay," he whispered, beginning to move alongside her earlobe.

"But Raoul…" she pleaded hazily, becoming lost in his persuasive movements upon her.

He turned her around slowly, placing his hand underneath her chin. Looking deeply into her eyes he told her, "Just a little while longer." He brought his lips to meet hers, losing himself in their kiss. He parted his mouth as Meg obliged him. Their tongues danced across each other with great intensity. Raoul held on to her tiny frame, as if she'd disappear at any moment.

Unconsciously, Meg glided her hands against his chest and up along his shoulders, removing his jacket from his body. Raoul in turn, ran his hands along her back, undoing the top button of her dress. One by one the buttons came undone, the heated breath between them like a fire raging against the storm. As Meg gradually felt the cool breeze across her exposed back and his hands roaming freely about her skin, she was awakened from her fevered state. Breaking the kiss suddenly, she held her hands quickly up to his face.

"I must go. I love you," she whispered and then kissed him in haste. Grabbing the sides of her skirt, she swiftly made her exit, leaving him breathless. A silhouette against the moonlight.

* * *

The St. Chapelle's church bells rang, welcoming its patrons to the second biggest event of the year, following the grand reopening of the Opera Populaire. Eight officers from Raoul's naval unit were dressed in full uniform. They stood at attention on opposite sides of the cathedral entrance, as the bride and groom's guests filed up the steps and into the church. The interior décor of the church swam in a sea of pink and white roses. The pews were adorned with intricate bows made of sheer white and gold ribbon with satin edges, finished with pearl sprays. Two white roses centered each delicate bow. On both sides of the smooth marble alter stood two large ivory pedestals, showcasing wondrous crystal vases. Each one contained an arrangement of white iris, white tulips, red roses, lavender stock, viburnum, fuschia peonies, bells of Ireland, white dendrobium orchid, white snapdragon, stargazer lily, white larkspur, and assorted greens and willow branches. It was a vision of loveliness that would inspire and amaze all who attended. The large pipe organ played, as family and friends began to take their seats, their heads turning to look all around and gaze upon the finely wrought preparations.

* * *

Meg stood before the full length mirror, inside the changing room of the church. She turned her tiara in her hand, completely lost in thought. _"I can't believe the week has gone by so fast. It seems like only yesterday when Lissette was making the final adjustments to my gown."_ She stared at her reflection in the mirror, her nerves on end. 

Seeing Meg's look of worry, Christine walked up behind her and placed a comforting hand onto her shoulder trying to calm her. "Don't worry, Meg. Everything will be fine. It's natural to feel nervous on your wedding day."

"I don't know if I can go through with this," Meg said shakily. The responsibility of becoming a de Chagny was suddenly weighing heavily upon her.

"Don't say such things, Meg. You're marrying the man of your dreams! A man, I might add, that loves you dearly," Christine confirmed with a sincere smile. She started to say more, but before she could continue she winced, as if in pain. Steadying herself on Meg's shoulder, she paused with her head down. She took several deep breaths, allowing herself time to ride out the discomfort.

"Christine? Are you alright, mon ami?" Meg asked with concern, as she moved to support her.

"I'm fine. It's just this impossible corset. It's killing me! I had a terrible time getting into it this morning," Christine surmised, irritably.

Meg led Christine over to the fainting sofa and called out to her mother to bring in a pitcher of water.

"Really, I'm fine, Meg. Don't fuss over me. Today is your day!" Christine insisted.

A knock at the door and a muffled voice beyond it spoke. "Meg? Christine? Is everything alright in there?" Raoul asked. "Madame Giry said something about being ill?" he inquired further.

"Go _away_, Raoul! You're not supposed to be here!" Meg called to him, stubbornly.

"I'm _behind_ the door, Meg," Raoul said, with an amused chuckle.

Meg's cheeks flushed from embarrassment. "Forgive me, mon amour. Please tell Maman to hurry with the water."

"Are you _sure_ you ladies will be fine? I can have Francois send for Dr. Gilles. He could be here in mere moments," Raoul stated, genuinely concerned.

"The water will be enough, Raoul, but thank you," Christine answered, her voice sounding steadier.

"Very well. I'll see you both soon," Raoul answered back. He turned on his heel and straightened his jacket. With a smile, he proceeded down the hall to make sure Madame Giry was on her way.

* * *

Sebastien and Jean made their way outside to the stables, behind The Roost. Ranier and Guifford stood beside the carriage awaiting them. All four men were dressed impeccably and would surely pass as invited guests. There would be many in attendance, so Sebastien was certain they would go unnoticed and most importantly undisturbed. 

"The Comte shall have his wedding and _if _he plays his cards right, a wedding night," Sebastien laughed eerily.

Jean looked to his partner and scowled. "You mean to say we're going to sit through that _entire_ blasted wedding?"

Sebastien glared back and said, "You have a _problem_ with that, Jean?" He took a step forward and tested him. Jean remained silent. Averting his eyes, he merely shook his head.

"When the ceremony is over, we shall attend the reception and have our fill of tasty delights before cornering le Comte with his _options_." Sebastien finalized, as he smacked Jean's back and ushered him into the carriage.

"Did you hear that, Ranier? There's going to be all kinds of fancy food!" Guifford said ecstatically, as he nudged the thin man's shoulder with his stubby finger.

Ranier rolled his eyes, gritting his teeth before his stoutly companion. "For once, would you _please_ think beyond your stomach?" He climbed up and seated himself along the driver's bench of the carriage. "Let's go! I'm itching to kill somebody and I'll start with _you_, if you paw me again, you lumbering ninny!"

Guifford joined him up top, taking hold of the reins and tightening his grip on the leather straps. With a flick of his wrists, the carriage was off and on its way to The St. Chapelle Cathedral.

* * *

Christine took several sips of water before feeling stable enough to stand. She handed the glass to Madame Giry and stood up briskly, facing Meg. "It's just about time. Let's get you married off, Megan Alaine Giry!" 

Meg smiled at Christine and took her hands within hers. "Can you believe it? I'm about to become Raoul's wife! Who would have thought?" She beamed, happily.

A knock at the door interrupted them, as both girls simultaneously answered, "Who is it?"

"They are ready for you, Madame Delacroix," an usher called out.

"Merci, Monsieur!" She replied.

Christine looked upon Meg warmly, her eyes twinkling in delight. "I have to go now. There's something I must do." She kissed Meg on both sides of her rosy cheeks and bid her farewell.

Annette smiled at Christine as she made her exit. Closing the door behind her, she walked over to her daughter, who was now seated before the vanity. Annette reached for her veil, exquisitely beaded with rhinestones and pearls. "Are you ready, chéri?"

"Oui, Maman," Meg answered, as she fastened the pearl and diamond necklace her mother had given her.

Annette secured the veil within the crystal and alabaster adorned tiara and then straightened the length of the train behind her.

Meg stood and walked over to the full length mirror and took a deep breath. She was now ready to be the envy of all those who had tried to vie for Raoul's affection and a place in high society.

Placing her hands upon Meg's shoulders, Annette sighed. "I always dreamed of this day for you, Meg, but now that it is here, I find it hard to let you go," she confessed, trying to suppress her tears.

"You are not losing me. In fact, you're gaining a son," Meg assured her with a smile. She turned to face her mother and embraced her affectionately. "I love you, Maman! I hope to make you proud someday."

"You already have, Meg. You already have," Annette said, as she held her. "Come. We must not keep Raoul waiting."

* * *

Madame Giry led Meg out of the changing room and down the long corridor. They stopped just shy of the corner and out of view. "We shall wait here, until it is time." 

"Is _that _Christine?" Meg asked, in awe of the angelic voice she heard accompanying the music.

"Oui. It is part of her gift to you and Raoul," Annette answered, with a smile.

The Girys' listened intently, as Christine's song filled the church with an inspired and unrivalled harmony.

* * *

Walking the crimson velvet carpet, the wedding line made their way down the aisle. They position themselves accordingly before the alter, as Christine's beautiful rendition of "Wedding Cantata" by Johann Sebastian Bach, rang out high above the arches of the cathedral. The echo of the pipe organ eventually came to a stop and there was a brief moment of silence before it chimed in again. "Trumpet Voluntary" by Jeremiah Clarke was played to signal Meg's entrance. 

Raoul stood proud, anxiously awaiting his blushing bride. A few beads of sweat glistened upon his brow, but he quickly reached for his handkerchief, wiping them away. As he placed it back into his pocket, he glanced up and there in the distance he saw her. She was more than just a vision in silken white, as she made her way slowly toward him. Her face was silhouetted by her veil, yet he could make out every inch of her beauty. _"She is a gift from God, brought down to me on a shimmering cloud of grace."_ His eyes remained fixated upon her, as she drew closer to him.

Reaching the alter, Madame Giry kissed her daughter's gloved hands and then looked to Raoul. With a poised nod, she smiled and reached out for him. He took a few steps down and brought his left hand out to meet hers. Annette joined his hand to Meg's and then looked them both over tearfully. "Take care of my daughter, Raoul."

"I promise," Raoul said sincerely.

Annette walked over to the front pew and seated herself, as Raoul and Meg took their final steps up to stand before the priest.

Father Verdell cleared his throat and addressed the congregation. "Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here in the sight of God and in the presence of these witnesses, to join Raoul and Megan in holy matrimony, which is an honorable estate, instituted of God in the time of man's innocence, signifying to us the mystical union which is between Christ and His Church." He continued with a brief opening prayer and then asked who would be giving the bride away. Madame Giry stood up and raised her hand demurely. Father Verdell nodded his head in acknowledgement and then called the Marquise up to read a chosen passage from the scriptures.

Anaïs read from the Corinthians and tried her best not to breakdown in tears. "Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres." She reached for her handkerchief and wiped away at her tears as she finished reading.

The priest waited for Anaïs to be seated before addressing the groom. "Raoul, will you take Megan here present, for your lawful wife according to the rite of our Holy Mother, the Catholic Church?"

Raoul looked solemnly into Meg's eyes. "I will."

Father Verdell then proceeded to ask Raoul to repeat the vows to be given to Meg and he recited his pledge proudly.

"I, Raoul Lucien William Alexandre, take thee Megan to my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, for fairer or fouler, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us depart, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereunto I plight thee my troth." He smiled down to her, the love evident both in his eyes and his words.

Looking to Meg, the priest continued. "Megan, will you take Raoul here present, for your lawful husband according to the rite of our Holy Mother, the Catholic Church?"

Tears flooded her sea blue eyes as she answered emotionally. "I will."

Father Verdell asked Meg to repeat the vows to be given to Raoul and she did so without faltering. "I, Megan Alaine, take thee Raoul to my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to be bonny and buxom at bed and at board, to love and to cherish, till death us depart, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereunto I plight thee my troth." Her voice betrayed her emotions, conveying in her words, a whole world of sincerity and love to the man before her.

Muted sobs could be heard across the cathedral, as guests began to shed their tears of joy.

Turning to Raoul, the priest asked him what pledge he would be giving as a sign of his sincerity to his vows. Raoul reached for the wedding band that rested upon the ring bearer's pillow. The priest then asked Meg if she would accept his pledged token and she accepted without hesitation. He then proceeded to bless the ring and nodded for Raoul to present it to his bride.

Removing her glove, he careful slid the gold band onto her finger. "With this Ring I thee wed, and with my body I thee honor, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow; In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen."

Father Verdell recited, "And may this circlet of pure gold which has no end, be henceforth the chaste and changeless symbol of your evermore pure and changeless affection."

Meg was next, as she reached for the larger gold band upon the ring bearer's pillow. She slid the ring onto Raoul's finger, after it was blessed by the priest. "With this Ring I thee wed, and with my body I thee honor, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow; In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen."

Once again, the priest spoke, binding Meg's exchange. "And may this ring given, be the outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual bond which unites your two hearts in love that has no end."

Motioning them to kneel before the alter, Father Verdell intoned various prayers. After several passages, he placed his hands upon their heads and asked God to bless them in their most sacred union. "And now, may the Lord bless thee and keep thee. May the Lord make His face to shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee, May the Lord lift up His countenance upon thee and give thee peace. Amen."

The boys choir began to sing "Be Thou My Vision," an old Irish hymn by Saint Dallan Forgaill, as requested by Madame Giry. When the song came to a close, the priest motioned for the young couple to stand. "And now it is my happy privilege to congratulate and introduce to you Comte and Comtesse de Chagny." The congregation stood and applauded, as Meg looked to Raoul and then toward the priest.

Raoul leaned into the priest's ear and then Father Verdell raised his voice through the overjoyed cheers. "One moment please. I seem to have forgotten something," he said with a slight blush of embarrassment. As the crowd settled down, Father Verdell announced, "Raoul, you may now kiss your bride." They turned and stared deeply into each others eyes, all of the promises now made, and all of the words now spoken.

Raoul carefully lifted Meg's veil to the side and kissed her tenderly. "I love you, little Meg de Chagny."

"Oh, Raoul! I love you so much!" Meg embraced her husband with every fiber of her being.

Raoul let out a laugh. "Madame, allow me to escort you." He offered his left arm to her and she took to it happily.

The organ piped "Rigaudon" by Andre Campra, as the newly wed couple made their way down the aisle, followed by their wedding line and guests. As the reached the back of the church, Raoul stopped Meg just before the exit. His eight naval officers stood beyond them, four on either side of the stone steps. A command was called out by one of the men. "Center face!" The men faced each other and awaited the next command. "Draw swords!" Each man raised his saber, cutting edge up, to form the arch. "I'm proud to present, le Comte, Lieutenant de Vaisseau, Raoul de Chagny and his lovely wife, le Comtesse Megan de Chagny!" Raoul led Meg through the gleaming shimmer of the arch of sabers. As they were about to pass through the last set of blades, the two officers lowered their sabers to block the couple's way. Meg looked to Raoul in confusion as he beamed a smile at her. "I'm afraid they demand that we kiss once more, before they let us pass, little Meg."

"Well," she said with a raised eyebrow, "we shouldn't disappoint them, should we, my husband?"

Before Raoul had a chance to reply, she grabbed Raoul by his jacket and pulled him close to her. The officers hooted and howled as Meg lifted her veil and brought her lips to his, kissing him firmly and soundly. She left him in a daze, as their lips parted. The remaining two sabers were raised and Meg pulled a stunned Raoul through, effortlessly. Francois held the carriage door open, as Meg climbed in, dragging Raoul behind her. The guests laughed as the new countess took hold of her husband.

The crowd began to disperse to their own carriages and make their way to The Château de Bagatelle for the reception.

* * *

**Author's Note x2**  
I hope everyone enjoyed the ceremony! Raoul sure does have a long name, huh? -grins- I thought it would be cool to give him a name extension as well as his lieutenant's title. I'm currently editing Chapter 8 as we speak, but this chapter was ready to go, so thought you guys wouldn't mind me uploading it right away. I'll be posting the next chapter, as promised, by tomorrow. Maybe tonight if I'm lucky. -hugs- In the meantime, if anyone wants to see a fluffy Gerry vid, made by me, just send a request via your review and I'll be sure to send you the link in my response. -Erik cuddly hugs and swishy cape kisses- 

**Disclaimers **  
I am not affiliated nor do I own the rights to the following: "Wedding Cantata" by Johann Sebastian Bach, "Trumpet Voluntary" by Jeremiah Clarke, "Be Thou My Vision" by Saint Dallan Forgaill, "Rigaudon" by Andre Campra, and The Château de Bagatelle.


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER 8**

Erik and Nadir spent the better part of the evening going over every last detail that Khadim and Omar had been able to uncover, during their years of search for Alhena. After several long hours, Nadir eased his back against a large tri-colored pillow, stretching his arms above him. "Our best bet is to head to Bornu," he said in a yawn, as he began to sink into the comforts of the sofa.

"I agree. I'll make the necessary arrangements, while you get some sleep," Erik said, as he stood up and walked over to the window. The darkness of night called to him, as he lost himself in its starlit backdrop.

"Erik, you should get some rest. I'll need you to be in top form, if we are to make such a journey. We do not know what awaits us," Nadir cautioned, gravely.

"You worry about yourself. My performance is not an issue. I am a grown man and can take care of myself. You know this. Have I _ever_ let you down?" Erik smirked.

"_Well_, I seem to recall that one instance when we found ourselves tied up in that cell in Persia _or_ what about that quicksand mishap in…"

"Oh, shut up, Daroga, and go to sleep, before I _put_ you to sleep permanently!" Erik warned.

Nadir grinned at the idle threat, as he closed his eyes. He listened to the clicking of Erik's boots, as he strode out of the room.

* * *

Erik stepped out into the garden and seated himself on the cedar bench. He pulled his cape around him and listened to the music of the night. He closed his eyes and envisioned the first night he had called Christine through the mirror in the opera house. _"Oh, Christine, how I miss you." _

"Erik, did you not find the room, Omar prepared for you, to your liking?" A tender voice asked.

He opened his eyes and found his mother at the backdoor, wrapped in a red, textile embroidered shawl. "The room is fine. I'm just not tired at the moment," he replied, quietly.

Amala walked over to her son and took a seat beside him. "I know you have much that burdens you, son, but it seems there is something more I'm missing, is there not?" She took hold of his left hand and brushed her thumb over his wedding band. "You've left someone behind."

Erik sighed heavily, as he leaned his head against the bench, looking to the night sky once more. "She is my angel from above, the one that saw what all others could not. She saw me as a man and loves me for who I am." He wanted to go on, but words failed him, as emotions took over.

"You should return home. There's nothing more for you here, but this dying old woman," Amala said, softly.

Erik looked at his mother, directly. "Don't say such things. I will return home, when I've returned my sister to you."

"How do you plan to do this, Erik? It's impossible to know where she could be now," she said, as she clenched his hand in hers.

"I _will_ find her. _That_, you can be certain of." He sat motionless, seeking solace in the comforts of his nighttime surroundings.

Even in this moonless night, Amala could see the fire of determination in his eyes.

* * *

The Château de Bagatelle had undergone major renovations, since surviving the French Revolution. It was now a glorious estate of architectural magnificence, nestled in a sea of greenery. Raoul's father had secured the property immediately, upon inspection. He wanted nothing but the best for Raoul and Meg and the château exuded that in every way. It was undeniably elegant, in its setting of meticulously manicured gardens. The double spiral staircase majestically swept upward, by the lightness of the baroque wrought-iron banisters. Each window, in the grand ballroom, had a different view of the estate grounds, reflected by symmetrically placed mirrors. The panels over the doors attributed to Jean Baptiste Pillement's artwork, represented the morning, evening and midday. Many soirées were held here, by various aristocrats, and all had praised the beauty and privacy of the large estate. 

As the wedding guests descended onto the property, they were greeted by a full catered staff. Silver trays, some filled with flutes of champagne, others with delectable hors d'oeuvres, rotated amongst the guests. Monsieur Reyer was on hand to provide the guests with the musical entertainment for the evening. He signaled the attention of the orchestra, as Raoul and Meg made their entrance to George Handel's "Water Music, Suite No. 2." It was the same song that Raoul had requested the night he had asked Meg for her hand in marriage.

Raoul and Meg stood in the middle of the foyer, surrounded by their guests, as the Marquis de Chagny raised his glass. He proposed a toast to his son and daughter-in-law. "My greatest wish for you, Raoul, has been fulfilled this day. You have joined in the holiest of unions with someone you care deeply for and who in turn adores you. May the love you share deepen and grow, over the years. I pray that God bless you both and keep you safe, always. May your future bring continued health and happiness all the days of your lives."

The glasses chimed simultaneously, followed by mass applause. As the crowd settled, Jérôme continued. "I ask now that you join me and my family in the banquet hall. The chef has prepared a wonderful feast, in honor of this celebrated day."

* * *

The guests were overwhelmed by the array of food that continued to pass from table to table. The service was timed in a fashionable manner, throughout each course, and no plate was left untouched. As the final course was set amongst the guests, Christine tapped her glass, signaling that she wished to say a few words to the newlyweds. She stood and faced her two most cherished friends, raising her glass to them. "What can I say about Raoul? He is a wonderful man, an honorable man, the type of man who would do absolutely anything for anyone, without a second thought." She winked at Raoul and he smiled, knowing full well of her words and the history behind them. 

He thought back on the day he had met her and retrieved her scarf from the sea and later, by doing the impossible; loving her enough to let her go. He would always have her love in friendship and he would cherish it for the rest of his life. He listened contently, as Christine continued.

"Meg, my dearest Meg, I would not have gotten through all those years, at the opera house, without you. You are the sister I never had and I am so very proud of you."

Raoul handed Meg his handkerchief, as she began to shed a few tears. Christine watched, as the love displayed before her was ever-present. She looked to them, with sincere admiration, finishing her words. "I wish you both the best life has to offer. The love you so generously have given me pales in comparison to the love you have given to each other. Let it see you through all the good times as well as the bad." Her final words were almost inaudible as her voice became shaky with emotion. Raoul and Meg both walked over to her, as she began to cry. With comforting arms, they held her between themselves, trying to sooth her. They gently helped her back to her seat, as the guests applauded.

The Marquise de Chagny took the opportunity to say a few words, as the room came to a whispered calm. She stood and elegantly raised her glass. "My darling baby, my boy, Raoul, you are no longer a baby, nor a boy, but a man. A man I have been proud of since the day I gave birth to you. You've always stayed true to your convictions and it has never led you astray. Meg is a beautiful woman with a spirited heart to match your own and I am delighted to have her enter into our family." Thoughtfully, Anaïs directed her attention toward her daughter-in-law. "Meg, I am thankful to the Lord for bringing you into my son's life and giving him complete happiness. Salut!" She brought the glass to her lips and took a sip of her champagne, as the guests followed in unison.

Annette walked over to Raoul and Meg and stood between the seated couple, affectionately placing her hands upon each of their shoulders. "I always hoped for this day and I had feared I would be losing you, Meg, but those fears are now gone. I was enlightened by your words to me, earlier this day. I have not lost a daughter, but in fact truly gained a son. I know, in my heart, that there is no other man that could possibly be better suited for you. You and Raoul were meant to be and I am proud to have him as my son. I am also extremely proud of you, Meg. You have grown into a lovely young lady and I know you will be a wonderful mother someday too."

Meg blushed at her mother's admission, as Raoul held her hand tightly, smiling with a promise in his eyes.

Adding a bit of lightheartedness to the room, Annette finished. "Monsieur, I wish for you to give me and your parents plenty of grandchildren. Preferably, before I am too old to bounce them upon my knee." She patted Raoul's back as the guests smiled and laughed. Meg pulled on her mother's skirt, in complete embarrassment. Annette leaned forward, to her daughter's ear, and said, "I love you, Meg. Do not forget, before I am fifty and make the first one a grandson. He should be '_quite handsome_' as le Comte, no?" Annette giggled, as she poked fun at Meg, using her own words against her.

"Maman, please!" Meg begged, as she continued to blush profusely.

Friends and relatives came forward, wishing to say a few words of praise, hope, inspiration, and love to the newlyweds. As the last speech was made, Monsieur Reyer began to cue the orchestra. They played Vivaldi's "The Four Seasons: Spring," as the wedding cake was wheeled into the banquet hall, before the guests.

Adrien Beauvais, a pastry chef, who catered to Meg's indulgence in sweets, was more than happy to provide the wedding cake, in honor of their union. He presented the couple with a spectacular five tiered cake, made of traditional French sponge cake. There was an additional eight smaller cakes, which surrounded the bottom tier. Each bore the de Chagny family crest upon them. The cake flavors were made up of different varieties, from assorted mousse fillings, to fresh sliced fruit and glazes. Royal icing coveted the cake, along with various sizes of candied pink and white roses, set within golden leaves. Delicate strands of teardrop pearls draped all along the sides of the cake rounds, as well as encircling the roses on each tier. An alabaster sculpture, of a bride and groom swept up in a kiss, sat at the top tier, finishing the masterpiece to perfection.

Raoul and Meg stood before their wedding cake, as it towered before them. With a crystal handled cake knife, they made the first cut together. "Ah, this one appears to be the Princess cake. I seem to recall it was your favorite, that day we had lunch at the bakery," Raoul smiled, as he took a piece of the delicate cake, and carefully placed it into Meg's mouth.

"Monsieur Beauvais certainly hasn't lost his touch," Meg answered, as she took a piece of the cake to feed her husband.

They kissed with frost covered lips, as the crowd around them cheered, and the catering staff worked diligently to serve cake to the guests. After dessert, the wedding party moved to the grand ballroom, to dance the rest of the evening away.

* * *

Raoul and Meg began the first dance to "Brandenburg Concerto No. 4" by Johann Sebastian Bach. They circled the grand ballroom, smiling at each other, in complete wedded bliss. As the song came to a close, their audience applauded and began to descend upon the ballroom floor, to Tchaikovsky's "The Sleeping Beauty." 

As soon as Christine heard that magical tune, she began to realize just how much she missed Erik. She had been so busy with the wedding; she didn't have time to worry about him. Now that it was in its final hours, she knew that she would have nothing more to occupy her time. She began to twist her fingers in knots, a habit she had whenever she felt distressed.

The Marquis tapped his son's shoulder and asked permission to dance with his new daughter-in-law. Raoul smiled and obliged his father, bowing to them both. As he turned on his heel to leave them to their dance, he viewed a very distressed Christine in the distance. He walked over to her and took hold of her hands. "I see that old habits are hard to break." He separated her hands and brought her left one up to place a kiss upon it. "You always did that up in the attic, when we spoke of all those dark stories of the North. Perhaps a dance will help ease your troubles?" He looked into her eyes, with sincere compassion.

Christine forced a smile and nodded, as he pulled her to him and began to dance. They made several circles across the ballroom floor before Christine began to feel dizzy. "Thank you for the dance, but I think I need to get some air, if you don't mind, Raoul?" She released his hands and attempted to turn, but slightly lost her balance.

"Christine! Are you okay? Let me help you outside." Having neither room to argue nor the will, Christine allowed Raoul to wrap his arm around her waist, as he carefully escorted her out onto the terrace.

* * *

Raoul brought Christine to rest upon a stone bench. "Are you ill?" He seated himself beside her and removed his glove. He felt her forehead with the back of his uncovered hand. "I knew I should have had Francois send for Dr. Gilles earlier." 

"Raoul, really, I'm fine. I think all the excitement just got to me." She insisted.

"Well, I advise that you see a doctor in morning. You feel a bit warm, but not alarmingly so." He placed his glove back upon his hand and then took her hands within his. "Lotte, promise me you'll see a doctor. I can't help but worry about you." He gazed into her eyes with concern, as he awaited an answer.

"I will, first thing in the morning. Right now, I think I'll just enjoy the night sky. You get back in there, before you begin to worry everyone." Christine assured him she would be fine and he had no reason not to believe her. He stood up and kissed her hand. "Come back inside soon, okay?"

Christine simply nodded in response, as he bowed before her. She watched as he turned on his heel and heading back inside.

* * *

Sebastien and Jean observed Raoul, as he made his way back, toward the château, alone. "Okay boys, there's your cue. Meet us in the salon," he instructed. 

Ranier and Guifford made there way down the hallway and stopped before the terrace, as Raoul attempted to make his entrance into the château.

"Comte, someone wishes to have a word with you. It's a matter of _business_," Ranier said, subtly.

"Well gentlemen, you can have whoever it is contact me in a few days. It's my wedding day and I do not wish to speak of business, at this particular moment." Raoul tried to move around the men, but found a rather hefty man blocking his way.

"Permit me to pass, please," Raoul said, as he tapped on Guifford's shoulder.

"You _seem_ to misunderstand me. You are to come with us right now!" Ranier nodded his head at Guifford and then proceeded down the hallway.

Guifford took Raoul firmly by the arm and ushered him behind Ranier.

"What is the meaning of this? I _demand_ an explanation!" Raoul said, irritated and confused.

Neither man said a thing, as they came upon the door to the salon, which was closed off for remodeling. The three men stepped inside and were greeted by Sebastien. Jean remained silent, as he sat quietly, in a dark corner of the room.

"Comte, glad you could honor my request. Have a _seat_." Sebastien kicked a chair forward and Guifford released Raoul, blocking the exit with his considerable size. He hesitantly seated himself, as Sebastien spoke again.

"I have a proposition for you, Comte. It can be a very good business opportunity, should you take me up on my offer."

"What sort of _business_ are you speaking of?" Raoul inquired, suspiciously.

"It's something that is very _lucrative_. Many support the cause." Sebastien answered, in an obscure fashion.

"You're being rather _vague_, Monsieur, and I don't think I will be partaking in any shady _dealings_ you may be involved with." Raoul casually crossed his legs and folded his arms across his chest. He felt the butt of his pistol at his side and was relieved he had secured it after leaving the church.

"Perhaps, you should reconsider. After all, your _brother_ was more than willing to support the organization," he mentioned, in an almost offhanded way.

Catching his attention, Raoul looked at the mysterious man before him. "What did you say?"

"You _heard _me, Comte. Your brother, Philippe, was one of our biggest backers, but we lost a good man to _your_ follies." Sebastien said, with annoyance.

Raoul thought of his brother and the businesses he was left in charge of after his death. There was still much paperwork he had to go through, but he remembered a few documents he was curious about. "_Excuse_ me?" Raoul questioned, outraged.

"Am I _suddenly_ speaking in tongues?" Sebastien looked at his associates, in an unnerving manner and then turned his attention back on Raoul. "I know _all _about what happened in La Rochelle. It was child's play getting the information I needed," he said, smugly.

Raoul tried to counter his words. "I don't know what you mean. My brother died…"

Sebastien was quick to cut off his attempt in mid sentence. "At _your _hands!" He watched as Raoul's face turned a shade paler. "Yes, Madame Brigitte told me _everything_, just before she came to her untimely death. The old _whore _kept silent for a good while, I'll give her that, but pain tends to make people more _susceptible_ to talking." Sebastien laughed, evilly.

Raoul sat in absolute shock, as he recalled the moment he pushed Philippe over the banister in the bordello. The tension in the room was unbearable. _"I must act now, before this situation worsens."_ He shifted in his seat slightly, trying not to be obvious, as he attempted to reach his pistol.

"I _do_ believe the cat has got his tongue, fellas," Sebastien grinned. "No matter. You don't have to say a word. A simple nod will do. You are to supply the loss of income you caused me and my men, since you killed off your brother, and you will continue to fund our operation for the next year, until which time, should you continue to cooperate, we will allow you a percentage of the gains we make via our trades."

Raoul gripped his pistol in his hand, within the safe covering of his jacket. "And _if_ I refuse?"

"I _knew_ you were going to say that! All you snotty nobles are all alike! _If_ you refuse, Comte, well, there are several options that come to mind." Sebastien paced the floor in thought, with his hands firmly clasped behind his back. "First and foremost, we could alert all of France to your murderous ways, _but_ I think there's something much _more_ worth the trouble to you." He turned to face Jean. "Megan Giry is _quite_ a stunning woman, isn't she, Jean?"

Jean merely nodded, grinning at his partner's diabolical mind.

Raoul tightened his grip onto his pistol, as Sebastien mentioned Meg. "Now wait just a minute! Your business with me is mine alone! She has nothing to do with this, so you just leave her out of this! She is of no concern to you!" Raoul had had enough. He stood up quickly, and pulled his pistol.

"Perhaps…" Sebastian was silenced by the click of Raoul's cocked pistol, which was now pointed directly at him.

"Idiots! You didn't check him for a weapon?" Sebastien yelled at Ranier and Guifford, as the two men flinched.

"Shut up!" Raoul demanded. "Now, you are to release me, before I put a bullet clean into your skull." He noticed Guifford and Ranier slowly moving toward him. "Tell them to back off!" He gestured with his weapon.

"You're making a _big_ mistake, Comte. You either kill us off or we go to the authorities and tell them about you."

"Now _that's_ something I _dare_ you to do! You _think _they will believe _you _and a few common thugs over _me_? You're not as bright as you must want me to think." Raoul laughed at the confounded look on Sebastien's face. "I have the upper hand gentlemen. I doubt you wish to die this night, so I suggest you leave me and my family be." Raoul began to address Guifford, without taking his eyes off of Sebastien. "To the big brute behind me, kindly step away from the door, and I shall make my exit _or _I can shoot. I will not ask again."

Sebastien lividly nodded at Guifford. He stepped aside and allowed Raoul to pass.

Raoul stepped into the hallway and cleared his throat. "I will be alerting the guards to your whereabouts." He bowed mockingly. "Gentlemen," he snorted and briskly took his leave.

* * *

Sebastien ordered his men to remove the large slats of wood that covered the window, in the far corner of the room. As they removed the final piece, Sebastien swiftly exited the uncovered window, with his associates following quickly behind him. 

"Not what you expected?" Jean said, with a snicker, as they ran across the estate grounds.

Sebastien stopped quickly and turned, eyeing Jean fiercely. "You _think_ I'm some sort of idiot? I _had_ wished it would have been simpler, _but_ if le Comte wishes to play the hard way, so be it! I have _plans_ for that bastard!" Turning in the direction of the carriage, he continued his run again.

"Why don't I go back in there and just shoot him, if he's not going to support our operation?" Ranier asked, breathlessly.

"Because he's no use to us dead! He will have no choice, but to comply, once I set my plan in motion," Sebastien informed him.

"But they'll be looking for us!" Guifford said, worriedly.

Sebastien groaned at the feeblemindedness of his companions. "We'll be long gone before they ever find us, you twit, now _move_!"

The four men finally found themselves before their carriage. Sebastien and Jean jumped in, as Ranier and Guifford climbed up to the front bench. Ranier grabbed the reins from his partner and urged the horses on, in haste. The carriage thundered off, leaving a trail of dust behind, as they headed back to The Roost.

* * *

Raoul strode down the side hallway, securing his pistol, and then straightened his hair and jacket. He walked over to two of the stationed guards and told them about his uninvited guests. "I don't wish to alarm my wife _or _our guests. See to it that those men leave the premises at once." They saluted him and calmly walked over in the direction of the salon. 

Meg came rushing up to Raoul, as she spotted him from afar. "Raoul, where have you been? I was looking all over for you!"

He placed his hands onto her shoulders. "My apologies, dearest, I was detained momentarily."

Meg looked Raoul over, with suspicious curiosity.

"I was in the restroom, Meg," he said simply, trying to remain inconspicuous.

"Oh. I'm sorry mon amour, I was just worried about you. Forgive me for being silly." Meg threw her arms around her husband and embraced him lovingly.

Raoul hated to lie to Meg, especially now that she was his wife and after the vows they had made. _"It would cause more harm than good to tell her. It is for the best that she does not know." _He tried to convince himself. He then remembered he left Christine outside.

"Meg, have you seen Christine?"

"She asked me to say goodbye to you. She had Victor take her home. She wanted to get some rest."

"Good. The day seems to have been trying on her."

"Oui. I told her I would visit in the morning to make sure she was alright and to see if she needed anything. Is that okay with you, Raoul?"

He held her face within his hands, brushing her cheeks with his thumbs. "Of course it is, little Meg." He leaned forward and kissed her nose. "Now, let's have a few dances before we bid our guests farewell." Resolving himself to look at his brother's papers more thoroughly in the days to come, he swept his new wife into his arms and spun her around the ballroom, losing himself in her charming smile.

* * *

**Author's Note**  
Ok, here is the second update, as promised. I apologize for the tardiness. I meant to put it up hours ago, but my internet decided otherwise. Darn cable companies! Thankfully it's finally up! Living without cable is so barbaric. -sighs- Don't forget, I will be out of town next week, so there will be no update next Friday. I'll be sure to be back to the weekly schedule when I return. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. The sequel is really coming together now. Thanks to everyone that continues to support me and the story. All your reviews have been greatly appreciated. -Phantom Kisses to All- 

**Disclaimer**  
I am not affiliated, nor do I own the rights to the following: The Château de Bagatelle, Jean Baptiste Pillement, George Handel's "Water Music, Suite No. 2," Vivaldi's "The Four Seasons: Spring," Johann Sebastian Bach's "Brandenburg Concerto No. 4," and Tchaikovsky's "The Sleeping Beauty."


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note **  
This chapter contains Raoul and Meg's wedding night. I've added the author's note here to warn anyone who is sensitive to such material, though I guess none of you would be here in the Rated M section, if so, right? -giggles-

Enjoy!

**CHAPTER 9**

Erik and Nadir readied themselves to head back to Marrakech and from there, to Bornu. Omar had offered his services to them, but both men insisted he stay in Taddert, to continue helping Khadim with caring for Amala. Erik and Nadir knew they could rely on each others skills, but they had no such trust in others. As they were about to take their leave, Erik reached for Nadir's shoulder and pulled him aside.

"I'll meet you outside. I wish to say my goodbyes in private." Erik said, soberly.

Nadir nodded, knowing he needed to speak with his mother before he left. "Take all the time you need. I will finish here and then saddle up the horses."

* * *

Erik could hear music, as he walked into Amala's room. He found her sitting in a chair, strumming a small instrument. Her fingers brought to life a soul stirring melody. 

"That is a very beautiful tune… haunting. What is it?" He asked, in awe of her skills.

Startled by his unexpected entrance, Amala replied, "Oh, Erik! Please, come in. I was just playing an old Moroccan melody which praises the moon. Music helps to relax my mind, when I worry."

Erik walked over and took a seat before her, silently motioning her to go on. She continued to play, as he became entranced by the music and the care she put forth upon the foreign device.

She finished and looked upon the wonderment in her son's eyes. "Would you like to try?"

"If I may?" Erik reached out, eagerly.

"Of course," she smiled and handed him the lute. "Have you seen one of these before? It is called an Otar."

He carefully inspected the wooden instrument, running his fingers across the neck and front of the elaborately carved contraption. He plucked at the strings for a moment, finding their pitch, and then he began to play. It was as if he'd been skilled for years in it. He instantly adapted Vincenzo Capirola's "Canto Bello," with the mere four strings given to him. His hands worked at the instrument lovingly, as his soul poured into the music. As his song finally came to a close, he smiled slightly at the lute and then handed it back to his mother.

Amala gaped in astonishment. "Erik, that was magnificent. Where did you learn to play?"

"From you," he replied, openly.

The look of confusion was evident upon her face. "I don't understand."

"I have this… _affinity_ for music. I need only see an instrument demonstrated once. It is a gift, if you will." He said simply.

"So you are a musician!" She exclaimed, happily. "You must hold court for many in France!"

Erik lowered his head, slightly embarrassed. He had not told her of his escapades, of the things he had no choice but to do, in order to survive and make a living. He didn't want to upset her with his past ways. "I'm afraid I have not had the opportunity to share my music with the world. But I believe I do not need to tell you the reasons why."

Amala could see the sudden pain surface within her son's eyes and immediately felt foolish for mentioning what she had. The mask was not a problem for her, but surely it was for the rest of the world. She understood most, if not all, of society would never be able to see beyond his scarred face. There was much she still did not know about Erik, but all that mattered was that he was alive and had the love of a woman that could see past his appearance. She decided to change the subject, viewing his uncomfortable demeanor before her.

Clearing her throat, she asked, "Would you like to have some breakfast with me out in the garden?"

He shook his head. "I thank you for the offer, but I will have to decline. I came in here to tell you I was heading back to Marrakech. Nadir and I will be making arrangements from there to Bornu."

Amala nodded as she stood up from her chair and then took Erik's hands within her own. Staring into his eyes she spoke with complete sincerity and concern. "Promise me you will be safe. I couldn't bear to lose you a second time. Not since you've just come back into my life."

"I will return Alhena to you, _this_ I promise."

"Erik, please..." Her voice cracked, slightly.

He squeezed her hand gently. "Shhhh... do not worry about me. Search your heart. You know I shall be fine."

Oddly, she sensed deep inside that Erik was more than capable of taking care of himself. She sighed, placing her arms around him in a loving embrace. He hesitated momentarily, but then placed his arms around her as well.

"Journey well, my son. I love you." She said, her head resting against his chest.

Erik remained silent and then slowly released her. He stood tall, looking her over one last time, and then turned to make his exit. There were a million thoughts and emotions running across his mind, as he left her.

* * *

Raoul and Meg sat cuddled together in their carriage, on the way back to the estate. The wedding had gone off without a hitch, to her knowledge, and the reception was sure to have everyone talking for years to come. "What a grand affair!" Meg told her husband, as she lay snuggled in his comforting arms. 

"The night's not over yet, Meg," he grinned, as he leaned in to kiss her.

Her cheeks flushed, as she giggled shyly, and returned his kiss, lovingly.

* * *

The carriage pulled up to the de Chagny estate, stopping before the stone steps, leading up to the manor's ornately carved mahogany doors. Francois hopped down from his bench and opened the door for his master and mistress. 

"We are home, Comte and Comtesse," he announced, bowing.

Raoul stepped out and smiled at Francois, while he offered a hand to his wife. As soon as she was out of the carriage, Raoul swept her into his arms, lifting her off the ground.

He proceeded to carry her up the stairs and beyond the threshold of the estate.

"Welcome home, Megan de Chagny," he said, as they passed the double doors.

She placed her right hand on the side of his face and looked at him fondly. She kissed his lips and smiled. "I can't believe I'm your wife."

"Believe it. All of this is yours!" He said proudly, as he spun her around. They laughed, becoming dizzy in their merriment. He thought it best to bring her to her feet, so they could take a moment to catch their breath.

As their childlike giggling came to a calm, he led her up the marbled staircase and to the master suite, where he had the staff set up a surprise for his new wife. "Close your eyes, just for a moment, little Meg."

"Is that really necessary?" She wondered aloud.

He met with the soft blue of her eyes and flashed a charming smile. "Please?"

It was that same look that melted her heart many times over. "Okay." Meg closed her eyes, curious as to what would happen next.

He opened the French double doors and then picked her up. Carrying her through the bedroom, he stopped before the balcony. "You can open your eyes now."

As Meg opened her eyes, she was greeted with an array of pink and white roses and a marbled pedestal which held two glasses and a bottle of champagne. A small velvet box also sat between the glasses. "May I?" Raoul asked as he reached for the container.

She stood there taking it all in, stunned at the romantic setting that surrounded her. "Raoul, you didn't have to…"

"Shhhh... you haven't even seen it yet." He slowly opened the box to her and inside laid a pair of gold ballerina earrings, posed on her tiptoes. With her dress flared, the ensemble completed in shape of a heart. The dress was lined with tiny diamonds and the eyes were set in sapphires. Meg's eyes lit up, as she smiled at him.

"It's beautiful!" she cried.

Raoul brushed her hair behind her ears and secured the earrings in place. He proceeded to uncork the champagne and began to fill both silver flutes, as Meg traced her fingers against the tiny jeweled dancers. Handing her a glass, he raised his own. "Today you've made me the happiest man on earth!" He touched his glass to hers and took a sip, then placed it onto the pedestal. "And tonight will be the first night of the rest of our lives."

Meg also took a sip from her glass before Raoul took it from her, placing it beside his. Gently pulling her by the waist, he wrapped his arms around her, bringing her closer to him.

"I'm richer than any king because of your love." He said softly, kissing her forehead and looking into her eyes. "Meg, I thank God for you and for the happiness you've brought to my life. I love you."

"I love you too, Raoul. I couldn't have asked for anything more. I've loved you since the first time I saw you and it's truly God's blessing that he's brought you to me," she replied, with tears of happiness in the corners of her eyes.

"Come to bed with me, my darling, Meg." Raoul brought his hands down to hers and led her into the bedroom, walking backward and keeping his eyes in contact with hers. At the side of the bed, he began to remove his jacket, tossing it onto a shield back cushioned chair.

Her eyes locked with his, as she began to undo the buttons on his shirt. Raoul could sense her slight hesitation, as he watched her hands trembling. He knew this would be her first time and he wanted everything to be perfect, but most importantly for her to feel comfortable in their intimacy. He wrapped his arms around her and held her awhile, to calm her nerves.

"Meg, if you want, we can just hold each other tonight," he offered, sincerely.

Without a word, she brought her hands up around his neck and pulled him down to her lips. Waves of pleasure rushed through his body as her tongue danced with his and the sweetness of her mouth aroused him. She could feel the intensity of the moment rising between them and she longed to feel even more. Her body pushed against his, as their kiss became even more amorous.

His hands fiddled with the buttons on the back of her dress, as he became more and more eager to finally have her in his bed. Despite his offer moments earlier, Raoul knew he had to have her. He had waited patiently, but now the moment felt like it couldn't be soon enough.

She finished the last few buttons on his shirt and let it fall to the floor behind him. She ran her hands against his chest, massaging his chiseled torso. On instinct, she playfully leaned down and flicked her tongue over one of his exposed nipples. His sudden shiver told her she had surprised him perfectly.

Unbuttoning the last of the multitude of buttons on her dress, he let it fall down to her waist, exposing the beauty of her full breasts. As he attempted to reach down to cradle the sensuous mounds before him, she stepped away from him, leaving him slightly confused.

"Meg? What…" he asked urgently.

She brought her finger to her lips and silenced him, as she continued to finish what he had partially done. Her silk dress pooled around her feet and she carefully stepped out of it. She stood bare before him now, wearing nothing more than her stockings and the earrings he had given her. His eyes took in every inch of her ivory skin. His body tingled from head to toe, as he stood in awe of her body. He anxiously contemplated the journey he would take across all the alluring spots on her feminine map.

"Are you alright, mon amour?" She teased, stepping closer to him once more.

"You are exquisite and quite ravishing at this moment. I find myself dumbstruck by your beauty. I have never wanted anything or anyone so much than I do right now."

Running his fingers through her hair, he pulled her to him and captured her in another heated kiss. She pulled his belt free and then pushed his trousers down. It slid down to his ankles and he stepped out of it, as he picked her up and brought her to rest on the bed. He removed his remaining undergarments and then joined her upon the bed.

"I love you, Meg."

"I love you too, Raoul. Make love to me and make me yours in every way." She pleaded, staring at his nakedness with seductive longing.

He met her lips again, feeling her nipples harden against his chest, as their kiss grew fiercer with desire. He brought his mouth down along her neck and slowly moved to her breasts, caressing the fullness of them in his hands, and circling each erect point with his tongue. He drove her mad with pleasure. Her body trembled with anticipation, as he continued his kisses upon her. She arched with each tiny spark his touch set off inside her.

Her breathless moans excited him, as he teased her firm peaks. She wrapped her legs around him, inviting him to her. He steadied himself on top of her and looked deeply into her eyes, before positioning himself against her. She inhaled sharply, as he slid his length into her and pushed slowly, deeply, until he was completely surrounded by her warmth.

The rhythm of love began, as he slowly rocked within her. She met each thrust, as he loved her with everything he had within him. She breathed his name, as she tightened around him and let sweet release consume her. The flames of passion flowed over him, as she panted and clung to him in ecstasy.

Raoul could take no more, as he watched her body thrashing beneath him, in complete submission. He brought himself deeply within her a final time, his body stiffening in climactic pleasure, as he began filling her completely. Moaning her name, he collapsed on top of her, with a drained sigh.

She brought her arms around him, caressing his back. He shifted his weight off of her and then nestled his head against her shoulder, draping his left arm across her and cuddling her close. They lay together, both smiling in silent harmony, as sleep finally came to claim them.

* * *

Sebastien and his men stayed up all night discussing the plans to take place once it was daylight. 

"It'll be up to you, Jean. The rest of us will be waiting at the train depot for our immediate departure," Sebastien reminded his cohort.

"You speak as if I've _never_ done this before," Jean replied irritated. "I know my job better than any. That's _why_ you keep me around, no?"

Sebastien snarled and grabbed Jean by the collar of his shirt. "I keep you around because so far you haven't failed me…." He tossed Jean aside and continued. "..._yet_!" Seeing the appropriate fear in the other man's eyes, he finished. "There is no room for mistakes where _this_ is concerned. I need not remind you of the consequences should you fail."

Jean stepped back, straightening his shirt. "No, Sebastien. You do not."

* * *

Raoul woke to an empty bed, as he yawned, still in complete exhaustion from yesterday's events. He slowly got out of bed and reached for his robe, wrapping it around him. He groggily made his way down the stairs, headed toward the kitchen, and ran into Jacques, as he rounded the corner. 

"My apologies, Comte. I did not know you were…"

Raoul raised his hand to quiet him. "It's alright, Jacques. Nothing could spoil my mood today," he smiled. "I don't suppose you've seen my lovely wife?"

"She is helping Therese prepare breakfast."

"Hmm, is that right? I'll have to go see how things are coming along then. Thank you, Jacques."

He dismissed his butler and continued his walk. He entered the kitchen and startled Meg, as he snuck up and grabbed her from behind. "You _do _know I have a full staff on hand to cater to our needs, do you not?"

Meg laughed. "Oui, I know, but I'm just so used to helping in the kitchen. I don't mind cooking for my husband every now and then, unless you are afraid?" She raised an eyebrow to him, teasingly.

"Not at all. I look forward to you feeding me, but for now..." he took the spatula from her hand and finished, "...let Therese finish in here and join me out in the garden. I'd like to spend a little time with my new wife before you visit with Christine."

* * *

They walked hand in hand, taking in the crisp morning air, before Raoul spoke up. "How would you like to go to Spain?" 

"Spain? Do you have business there?" She asked, curiously.

Raoul grinned. "I was thinking more along the lines of our honeymoon, little Meg."

"Oh, Raoul! Really? Spain?" She asked, in excitement.

"Yes, Spain. Unless you don't want to go," he said, playfully.

She jumped into his arms and squeezed him tightly. "Of course I want to go!"

Raoul chuckled, as he held onto his wife. "Then I shall make the proper arrangements while you are out. Now, let's have something to eat, before I send you off." He led her to a covered patio table where they dined on a light breakfast, enjoying the morning sun. After their meal, they retreated to the master suite to prepare for the day.

Shortly afterwards, they came down the staircase together. Jacques held the front door open for them, as they walked out of the estate. The carriage awaited, ready to escort Meg to Melun. "Have a good time with Christine and remind her to see a doctor today. Perhaps you can accompany her," Raoul suggested, as he helped his wife up.

"I won't forget. I love you!" She leaned her head out of the window and kissed her husband goodbye.

He watched and waved, as the carriage made its way off the estate and past the gate, before heading back inside.

* * *

As the carriage drove past the opera house, the sweet scent of freshly baked goods filled Meg's senses. 

"Francois, can you stop the carriage, s'il vous plait?" She asked, from the carriage window.

He turned his head in her direction. "Is everything alright, Comtesse?"

"Oui. I'd just like to pick up some pastries at the bakery."

"Very well." Francois chuckled quietly to himself, stopping the carriage in front of the shop. He hopped down from his seat and opened the door for her.

"Merci. I won't be long," she smiled.

Francois tipped his hat, smiling back at her.

* * *

Meg browsed the display case, trying to decide what to get. So many items met her fancy. She wanted to try them all. "Meg, what did I tell you about indulging in Monsieur Beauvais's sweets?" A familiar voice called out. 

She turned to see her mother, who had just entered the shop.

"I should ask you the same question, Maman." Meg grinned, happy to see her.

"I am here to pick up the baguettes for the opera house. I offered to help Margot in the kitchen this morning, since she has a large lunch to prepare for managers guests arriving from Italy."

Meg cringed. "Do they plan on bringing La Carlotta back?"

"Non. It's in regards to the opera house in Naples." Annette assured her.

"The Teatro di San Carlo?" Meg inquired.

Surprised, Annette asked, "Oui. How did you know about The Teatro?"

"Christine told me about it. Speaking of which, that is why I am here. I came to pick up a few pastries for Christine. I hope she's feeling better."

"She seemed well this morning, chéri. I think she just needed some rest, after all the excitement. Will you be having dinner with us?" Her mother offered.

Meg considered it. "I may. I haven't thought that far ahead, but it's possible."

"I must head back. In any case, I hope to see you later, if so."

Adrien Beauvais brought out two large bundles of baguettes, fresh from the oven. "Here you go, Madame Giry."

"Merci, Monsieur Beauvais," she replied, reaching into the pocket of her skirt to pay the man.

"Let me help you with those, Maman. I can send Francois back home and take another carriage to Melun. Besides, I don't want to keep him long, in case Raoul needs him, and it will be nice to visit with Manon and Jammes for a little while."

Her mother nodded in agreement, always eager to spend time with her daughter. They concluded their purchases and walked outside. Meg dismissed Francois, though he tried to insist he could stay. Ultimately, they assured him they would be fine. He watched, as Meg and her mother walked off toward the opera house. He took a moment to grab a copy of the morning paper and then climbed up to the driving bench. He turned the carriage around and headed back to the estate.

* * *

**Author's Note x2 **  
I hope everyone enjoyed the long awaited update. I have no plans to travel after my week of... hmm I can't remember... too many drinks... so little brain cells left... hehe! Thanks again for your patience and all the wonderful reviews I received on the double update. 

**Disclaimer**  
I am not affiliated with Vincenzo Capirola's "Canto Bello," nor do I own it. It's a beautiful melody though. If you haven't heard it, you should. -wink-


	10. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER 10**

Darius and Valente sat in the courtyard of the riad, enjoying their lunch, as Erik and Nadir came strolling up the jagged stone pathway. Nadir promptly eased himself into a seat, beside the two men, as Erik continued past them. He made his way up the stone steps, headed toward his room, on the second floor.

Watching Erik disappear into his room, Darius addressed his master, "Will he not be joining us for lunch, sir?"

Nadir shook his head and took a piece of bread from the basket upon the table. Ripping it in half, he answered, "It's been a long morning and he has much to do still." He dipped the torn piece of bread into his soup bowl and consumed it.

"What happened in Taddert, mio amico?" Valente asked.

"We found his mother," Nadir informed the Italian.

With a bewildered look, Darius questioned, "Are you certain?"

"Quite." Nadir took hold of the pitcher on the table and poured himself a glass of Moroccan mint tea. "He also has a twin sister," he added.

The two men glanced at each other. "A sister?" Both said, in unison, obviously perplexed.

"To make a long story short, Erik and I will be heading to Bornu. She is missing and that was her last known whereabouts." Nadir continued his meal, casually, as both men sat astounded by the news he had just given them. "We intend on bringing her back home, should she still be alive, that is."

Curious to his master's last admission, Darius approached his next question, carefully. "I beg your pardon, sir," he cleared his throat slightly, "but you don't seem to be too confident."

Nadir sighed, as he lowered his glass to rest on the table. "It's not lack of confidence, Darius, but I fear this mission will prove to be Erik's most difficult task yet. Whether she's alive or dead, it will be very demanding for him, physically and mentally."

Taking note as to what was being said, Valente sensed his and Darius's duties lay elsewhere. "I take it you have other plans for Darius and I?"

"Yes, it's been discussed already. You and Darius are to stay in Taddert, to keep watch over Madame Delacroix. They will be awaiting your arrival."

"They?" Both men spoke up.

"Her servant, Khadim and his aid, Omar," Nadir replied, dipping another piece of bread into his bowl.

"When will we be departing then?" Valente wondered.

"Be ready at first light. Erik has a few things to attend to before we leave, so I suggested a fresh start in the morning."

Both men nodded at Nadir and then continued with their meal.

Nadir poured himself another glass of tea and then stood up, taking the glass off of the table. "Should either of you have any more questions, I shall be in my quarters." He left the two men, heading to his room, to pack for the following day.

* * *

Erik entered his room and went directly to the small desk at the far end of the room. He didn't know when he would be able to get another chance to send a letter to his beloved Christine. Now was the most opportune time to do so. He had meant to send word to her upon his arrival to Marrakech, but his plans had rapidly spun out of his control _"I do not wish to worry her any longer, though I must be brief with the details of my prolonged stay." _ He gathered the writing implements before him and began to write. 

**Dearest Christine,**

**I have arrived safely in Marrakech and I beg your forgiveness for not sending word to you sooner. It is with a heavy heart, that I say I am needed here awhile longer. Take comfort in knowing that, as each day passes, I am one step closer to getting back home to you. Mon ange, you never stray far from my thoughts. I miss you immensely and I long to be with you. **

**I hope Annette's company has been beneficial, during my absence. Send her my regards. **

**I promise to write you again soon…. I love you…**

**Eternally,**

**Erik**

Satisfied with his words, he sealed the letter with his personal stamp. He paused a moment, knowing he had one more letter to write, before heading next door to finalize the traveling itinerary with Nadir. He placed a fresh piece of parchment onto the table and dipped his quill into the ink bottle.

**Monsieur Reinard,**

**I require an additional revision to be made to my Will. I wish to bequeath unto my sister, Alhena Delacroix, my property in Italy as well as those in America. Be sure my request is drawn up immediately. You are not to question me or my actions. That is not what I pay you to do. **

**-Erik Delacroix **

He secured the letter, as he did before, and gathered both from the table. He stood up and made his way out the door, headed to Nadir's room.

* * *

Meg spent an hour visiting with the ballet girls, especially little Jammes, who was delighted to see the new Countess. It felt as if she had never left the opera dormitories, as she listened to all the new tales her friend had to share with her. They discussed many of the new suitors that some of the older girls had, but what Meg found most amusing was the newest Phantom tales circulating amongst the younger members of the corps. Meg felt very foolish for having indulged in the ghost stories, knowing what she knew now. As her visit began to wind down, she bid her friends goodbye and promised to visit again soon. 

Madame Giry walked Meg out, to the front of the opera house, and hailed her daughter a carriage to take her to Melun.

"Bonjour, ladies. Where will you two be heading today?" The driver asked eagerly, tipping his hat to them.

"My daughter will need transport to Melun, Monsieur," Annette said, as she handed the driver some coins.

"Merci, Madame." The man pocketed the coins and climbed down to open the door for Meg.

"I hope to see you later, Maman." She kissed her mother on both cheeks and entered the carriage.

"I look forward to it, chéri. I love you!" Annette waved to Meg, as the carriage drove off.

* * *

Nadir opened the door for Erik and then they proceeded into the sitting area. They seated themselves across from one another, amongst the various tri-colored pillows, scattered about the floor. 

"Is everything in order?" Nadir asked, as he crossed his legs.

"Yes. Darius and Valente will be taking our mounts to Taddert and we will acquire new transport in the city. "

"And what form of transport will we be _acquiring_?"

Erik smirked, "I _refuse_ to ride several weeks across the Sahara on the back of a camel. We will obtain two Arabian horses."

"The Barb's would be more reasonably priced." Nadir noted, realizing the expense of purebred Arabians.

"The Barb is no doubt a magnificent beast, _but_ it pales in comparison to the physical perfection of the Arabian, not to mention they are specifically bred to withstand long treks across the desert. Their price is of no concern. What matters is our swift and efficient arrival in Bornu. The Arabian will grant us just that."

Nadir chuckled, darkly. "The price may be of no consequence to you, but I lack your _affluence_ where such luxuries are concerned."

Erik rolled his eyes at his foreign brother. "I've brought more than enough funds to cover _our_ expenses. Really, Daroga, you should have more faith in me than that."

"I trust my faith in Allah. You on the other hand…"

Erik glared at Nadir, stopping him from finishing.

Clearly his throat, overtly, Nadir carried on. "You expect to just waltz into the city and purchase two Arabians? You forget that their owners consider them the most highly prized amongst their possessions."

"And you forget that I am a very influential man when it comes to _negotiating_." Erik stated, proudly.

"_That's_ what I'm afraid of…" Nadir trailed off, in a dramatic sigh.

Erik tossed the two envelopes within his hand, purposely striking the Persian's forehead. "Have Darius send those out, will you?" He grinned triumphantly.

Nadir grabbed the letters, tucking them into his vest pocket, and calmly stood up. "Sure thing, old boy." As he passed his mischievous friend, he took hold of two, large tri-colored pillows, tossing them at Erik's head. "Hold those for me…" he picked up a couple more, throwing them at him, and continued, "…_will you_?" Two more pillows followed, before he felt properly vindicated. "I'll be right back. Make yourself _comfortable_," he finished in a grin, as he watched Erik fuss underneath the pile he had created.

* * *

Meg stared out the window, watching the landscape go by, as the carriage to Melun traveled the countryside. She gathered they were no more than twenty minutes away from her destination. Suddenly the carriage veered, turning down a road, away from The House of Roses. Meg knew of no alternate routes, other than the one they had been traveling on. Concerned, she quickly spoke up to question her driver. 

"Monsieur, I believe you have taken a wrong turn," she stated.

"On the contrary, Comtesse, we are headed in the _right_ direction," the driver assured her.

Meg furrowed her brow and tilted her head slightly, in confusion. "But this is the road to Orléans."

"Precisely," he grinned. "I will only say this once." He glanced over his shoulder, "My name is Jean. I represent some men that are currently at _odds_ with your new husband. Should you make any _attempts_ to flee, it will be at the price of the Comte's head. Do I make myself clear?"

Meg grew tense, as Jean laid out his threats. She clutched at her small beaded purse and cautiously asked, "Why are you doing this? There must be a better way to settle any grievances you may have with my husband."

Jean sneered at her, "I believe that is where your precious Comte has failed you. His lack of _cooperation,_ yesterday, has brought us to this. He could have easily accepted the terms given to him then, but he chose _poorly_. I'm sure he'll see things much _clearer_ now."

Meg sat in silence, as she thought back on yesterday's events. She didn't recall any opportunity Raoul could have had to discuss any type of business matters. _"Unless… no, that can't be. He wouldn't purposely lie to me… would he? Not after our vows…" _There was much for her to think about, but more importantly, how was she going to get out of her current situation? She slumped back into her seat, lost in thought and worry.

* * *

Christine sat outside, reading a collection of short stories by Geoffrey Chaucer. She found "The Canterbury Tales" to be quite fascinating. It was just one of the many intellectual pieces amongst Erik's vast library. She placed the book onto the table, as the butler stepped out onto the stone terrace to check on her. 

"Are you in need of anything, Madame?" Nicolas asked, kindly.

Placing a hand against Nicolas's arm, she looked upon him, fondly. "Nicolas, please, how many times have I asked you to call me Christine? You should know, by now, that I think of you as family."

He bowed and replied, "I'm sorry. Monsieur Delacroix is very meticulous about how his staff is to address his guests and the household."

"Well, my husband is not here, so you need not be so formal around me," she winked and then asked, "Has Meg arrived yet? I expected her by now."

"No. She has not."

Christine thought for a moment, placing a finger upon her chin. "Hmm…. It's well into the afternoon already. I guess she's changed her mind. After all, it _is_ the day after her wedding. Perhaps she's spending the day with Raoul."

"Would you like me to send word to the de Chagny estate?" Nicolas asked.

"I've got a better idea." She stood up, to face Nicolas, and smiled at him. "Have the chef prepare dinner for four tonight. I'll have Victor take me to the estate and I'll invite them to dine with us this evening."

"Splendid idea…" Nicolas hesitated, before adding, "…Christine." He smiled at the informality and then bowed to his mistress. "I'll see to your wishes immediately."

"Merci, Nicolas."

Christine retreated inside, racing up the spiral staircase in excitement. She entered her room and prepared herself for the trip to Paris.

* * *

Raoul had made the necessary arrangements for the trip to Spain. He was pleased to be able to give Meg such pleasurable freedoms and he was equally in need of a holiday away from France. He had spent countless days overseeing all of his business obligations as well as those left by his brother. _"A vacation couldn't have come at a better time, especially with the occurrence of yesterday's incident with those ruffians."_ All that was left to do was sign off on a few antiquities, the de Chagny family had acquired, which was scheduled to go on public display at The Louvre Museum. As he reached for the remaining documents, he glanced at the ledger, sitting at the opposite corner of his desk. _"Philippe's personal documents…" _ He thought back on his uninvited reception guests and the words that were exchanged between them. He brought the ledger before him and leafed through the pages. He went through the contents of the pages that he had previously noted to have several discrepancies. _"This cannot be right." _As he was about to continue further, he was interrupted by a knock. 

"Entrer," Raoul called, from behind his desk.

"Comte, your mail has arrived." Jacques held the letters up before his master.

Raoul motioned his hand, in the direction of the door, "Leave it on that table beside the door, Jacques." He watched as his butler placed the mail onto the small table and then asked, "Has my wife returned yet?"

"I'm afraid not, but you did mention she may not return until this evening. Should we be expecting her sooner?"

"No. I guess I hadn't realized it was still early in the day," Raoul sighed. He missed her already and she had barely been gone for a few hours. "Alert me immediately upon her arrival," he finished and then waved at Jacques, dismissing him.

"Very well, Comte," he bowed and then excited the study.

* * *

The remainder of the journey, to Orléans, was made in relative silence and Jean had made good time getting to the train station. He escorted a reluctant Meg out of the carriage and onto the platform, where Sebastien, Ranier, and Guifford awaited them. 

"Jean, my good man, I was _wondering_ when you'd show up and whether you had succeeded or not. A rather disturbing thought had even crossed my mind. I was beginning to think that, perhaps, you had betrayed me," Sebastien eyed him closely, as Jean stood his ground, matching his partner's suspicious gaze.

"The job's done. There's no need for you to be so doubtful of me and my abilities," Jean assured him.

Sebastien turned, ignoring Jean's words, and approached Meg. He attempted to take her hand, but she pulled it away from him, abruptly. "I see we have a feisty one on our hands." He looked at his men and laughed cynically. Looking back to Meg, he addressed her, with exaggerated charm. "Comtesse, you will find that I am capable of being as well mannered as that of your dear Comte," he leaned in close to her, his face taking on an evil grin, as he whispered, "…or I can be the most ruthless, sadistic bastard you will ever meet." Meg closed her eyes, turning her head away. He stepped back, snickering at her demeanor. "It is entirely up to you, which attribute you wish to encounter during our time together."

Obviously frightened, Meg stammered weakly. "You're insane, Monsieur…"

The other men joined Sebastien in his laughter, until they heard the cry of a whistle, blowing in the distance. "The train is inbound," Ranier said, viewing its approach.

"I have secured a private car, which should ensure our journey remain uninterrupted from the other passengers," Sebastien told Jean. "I am placing her under your care. Make sure she doesn't cause any trouble."

They boarded the car, at the very end, settling themselves within, as the train made its way down the tracks.

* * *

Victor opened the gates to the de Chagny estate and drove the carriage through, stopping before the grand manor. He hopped down from the driver's bench and opened the door for Christine. 

Jacques approached the carriage, as Christine emerged from within. "Madame Delacroix," he bowed. "What brings you here?" He glanced behind her, expecting to see Meg appear.

"I'm here to invite Raoul and Meg to dinner," she replied, straightening out her dress.

"La Comtesse is supposed to be with you, I thought?" Jacques informed her. Anxiety began to build, at the pit of his stomach, as he heard his master approach from behind him.

"Christine, it's so good to see you!" Raoul called out. "Where is Meg?" He continued.

Christine was at a loss for words. She didn't understand what was unfolding before her. She took a moment to gather her befuddled thoughts, as Raoul stopped before her, taking her hand.

"So, where have you hidden my beautiful wife?" He kissed her hand and smiled, genuinely.

"Raoul, isn't Meg here with you?" Christine asked, with concern.

Raoul looked at her strangely. "What?" He shook his head slightly. "Umm, no, she left this morning to visit you."

With hesitation, she responded, "She never showed up this morning and I assumed she stayed home to spend time with you. I just came here to ask you both to dinner."

Raoul broke out in a cold sweat. "She is most definitely not with me and since she is obviously not with you, then where, in God's name, _is_ she?" He began to think back upon the previous night and of the threats that were spoken. With a sudden realization, the outcome of his thoughts sent him rushing into the estate.

* * *

Behind Raoul, Christine quickly followed, calling out to him, to no avail. He disappeared, into a room, ahead of her. As she reached the door, she heard rustling noises, coming from within. She entered the room and watched, as Raoul ravaged through the papers upon his desk, knocking over the unlit gas lamp that once sat upon his desk. 

"Raoul, calm down!" Christine pleaded. "There must be a reasonable explanation, as to her whereabouts."

He mumbled incoherently under his breath, as he walked over to Christine. In a rush and out of frustration, he kicked the small table, by the door, knocking it to the ground.

Christine flinched, as the table hit the floor. "Raoul, you're scaring me!"

"You don't understand! This may very well be my fault!"

Christine took hold of his shoulders, looking into his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I was less than forthcoming with her yesterday." He lowered his eyes from hers, guiltily.

"What happened yesterday?" She pressed on.

"I was taken aside, by a few men, during the reception. It was just after I had taken my leave from you. They _knew_ about La Rochelle…"

He was quickly interrupted by Christine. "Mon dieu! How did they…"

"They killed the Madame of the Bordello!" Raoul yelled, emphatically. "Somehow, Philippe was involved in financing some sort of business of theirs, but now that he's dead they've sought me out to take his place."

"You did not accept this proposition, did you?"

"Of course not, Christine, but perhaps I should have, at the cost of keeping Meg safe." He fell to his knees, desperately. "It's because of me that Meg's in danger…"

Christine knelt beside Raoul, wrapping her arms around him. "Raoul, we are not certain she has been taken. She may very well be with her mother." She rubbed at his back trying to console his fears.

Raoul held Christine, brushing a few anguished tears from his eyes. He glanced behind her, at the mail that was scattered about the floor. He released her, easing her gently, off to the side, as he focused upon one particular envelope that was addressed to him.

"What is it, Raoul?"

He reached forward and picked the envelope up, tearing it open. He unfolded the letter and began to tremble, in anger, as he read.

**Comte,**

**By now you must be wondering where your darling wife is. I assure you she is in very good hands. It's inconceivable that someone so spirited and charming could ever be involved with the likes of you. She needs a real man to care for her. After all, who would let such a beauty out of his sight and subject her to the dangers of the world?**

**I do believe I've now warranted your undivided attention and that I will have your full cooperation, in the matter at hand. A meeting of discretion is in order. You are to meet with my associate, Ranier, at Shamira's Eye, in Zanfara. I trust you know where that is, being you are a worldly man. He will then escort you the rest of the way. **

**I need not remind you that this is to remain a private matter. Any involvement, of an authoritative nature, will not be in your wife's best interest. If you wish to see her alive, you will follow my instructions, to the letter. I would hate to see such a fair-haired maiden suffer needlessly at the hands of some rather uncouth men. **

**-Sebastien L.**

Raoul let out a roar, tossing the letter aside, as he got to his feet and stormed over to his weapons cabinet. He grabbed his keys, from his pocket, and immediately unlocked it.

Christine picked up the letter and began to read. Gasping at what was being revealed to her, within the text, her hand flew up, over her mouth. _"No! Not Meg!"_

Raoul grabbed his twin gold bayonet pistols, with cannon-shaped barrel heads, along with two medieval silver daggers, encrusted with various jewels. He pulled his saber and its steel scabbard, from their mounted position within the cabinet, and began to fasten it to his waist.

Christine rushed up to Raoul, as he fussed with his belt. "I'm going with you."

"Absolutely not! I will not subject you to the dangers ahead of me. This has nothing to do with you, Christine."

"It has everything to do with me! Meg is practically my sister! Do not think I take her kidnapping lightly!"

"And you think I do? I'm her husband!" He yelled at her.

"That's not what I meant, Raoul, and you know that!"

"You're not coming, Christine! That's final!" He ordered, cinching his belt tightly.

She stared at him defiantly. "You can't stop me, Raoul. Either you take me with you or I will simply follow you."

Christine was a very stubborn woman when it came to getting her way. There was no way around it and definitely no time to argue. Raoul would have to take her with him. It would be better to keep her under his watchful eye, rather than have her venture out alone, which he knew, without a doubt, that she was very capable of doing.

With a heavy sigh, he relented. "Fine, but your husband will have my head for this. When the time comes, I expect you to intercede, on my behalf. I do not need to explain my actions to him. This is your choice and I leave the matter in your hands."

"Agreed." Christine said, resolutely.

Raoul turned to face the weapons cabinet, again, unlocking a drawer, below the display case. He took out a small box, which held a lady's flintlock pistol, with an ivory engraved handle. "Take this. It belonged to my father's mother."

Christine took the wooden box from Raoul, placing it onto his desk. She watched him curiously, as he reached to the very back of the drawer. He pulled something out which was carefully wrapped in silver and gold cloth. He untied the worn leather binding, which secured the cloth in place, and revealed an exquisitely crafted silver dagger to her. The double-ground blade possessed a twisted, wire-wrapped handle which was only found on rare custom pieces. It was encased in a steel scabbard, carved with intricate scrollwork.

"This once belonged to Jeanne d'Arc, a very courageous and beautiful French woman. It's been in my family since its discovery in Rouen." He pointed at the stamped knight's crest on the back of the blade. "She was known, amongst many, as a knight who tirelessly persevered for the cause." He placed the dagger into her hands, wrapping his firmly around hers. "It is because of your strength and commitment to those you love, that I give this to you and pray it serves you well, should the need arise."

"Raoul, I can't take this," she said, unwilling to accept such an important heirloom.

"You can and you will, Lotte." He looked into her eyes, adamantly.

Reluctantly, she accepted. "I promise to return this to you."

Raoul nodded and then took her by the arm. "Come. We must leave immediately. We will purchase any items we need on the way. There is no time to pack." He picked up the lady's pistol, from the box upon his desk, and then grabbed Philippe's ledger. As they exited his study, he told Christine to wait for him outside, while he left instructions with his butler.

* * *

Christine spoke of her impending journey to Victor. He pleaded with her not to go. He knew his master would have him drawn and quartered, if anything were to happen to Christine. 

"S'il vous plaît, Madame, reconsider. If you are not at La Maison de Roses, by the time Monsieur Delacroix returns home, there will be Hell to pay!"

"I am sure to be back, before he is home. Try not to worry so, Victor."

Much to his disapproval and continued pleas, she dismissed him and told him not to inform Erik while he was away in Morocco. She didn't want him to worry about her. She was confident in remaining safe, under Raoul's protection. All that mattered was getting Meg back and nothing was going to keep her from helping to bring her home safely.

* * *

Inside, Raoul brought Jacques and Francois up to speed. "You are to reveal very little to Madame Giry," Raoul advised his butler. "Let her know that I have taken Meg and Christine on a surprise trip to London. That should suffice, until our return." 

"Should we not alert the authorities?" Jacques asked.

"No. That will only ensure harm to Meg and that is something I wish to avoid."

"Very well, Comte. Please take care of Madame Delacroix and journey safe."

Raoul placed a firm hand on Jacques's shoulder. "If we are not back within a month's time, you are to send the authorities for us then." Bidding him goodbye, Raoul turned on his heel and exited his home.

* * *

Christine sat within Raoul's carriage, waiting for him patiently. From the window, she saw him make his way swiftly down the front steps and toward the awaiting carriage. He climbed in, seating himself across from Christine, and then knocked on the roof, signaling he was ready to proceed. Francois drove them swiftly across the grounds and off the estate. Raoul and Christine sat in silence, both contemplating what had occurred and wondering what it was going to take to free Meg from her captors.

* * *

**Author's Note**  
Thank you all, for enduring the last chapter. –wink- I know, I know, you all miss the Erik and Christine fluff! Admittedly, so do I! –grin- I promise this sequel will have some, just hang in there! All your reviews continue to inspire me. I couldn't have asked for a better bunch of readers. You are all PHANTASTIC! –Phantom smoochie goodness- 

**Disclaimer**  
I am not affiliated, nor do I own the rights to the following: Geoffrey Chaucer's "The Canterbury Tales," The Louvre Museum, and Jeanne d'Arc.


	11. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER 11**

With the morning sun already high in the eastern sky, the Marrakech marketplace was alive with vendors hawking their wares. The throngs of customers wandered a labyrinth of covered streets, alleyways, and courtyards, all awash with Moroccan-made handicrafts. Leather goods, woodcarvings, jewelry, ceramics, and clothing, to name a few, all could be found for a price.

The sound of drums and the rhythmic wailing, of singers, echoed and reechoed across the square. Clapping, exclamations of admiration, and roars of laughter were displayed by the knots of spectators, gathered around the performers. Every corner seemed to have something different to offer, from acrobats creating alarmingly unstable human pyramids, to storytellers, relating exciting, and often ribald, tales of the city's history. In other corners, snake handlers and sword swallowers would seemingly appear to defy death. The entire square was bustling with entertainment, competing for public favor. It's a moment like no other, in a city that seems to occupy a dimension all its own.

Several beggars, mostly small children, had constantly pestered Erik and Nadir, as they made their way across the square and through the morning crowds. They had contacted several traders, with no success. Frustrated and overwhelmed by the flocks of children, particularly the one that now clung to his left leg, Erik decided to toss a handful of coins off to the side. As the children began to scatter after the coins, Erik and Nadir ducked into a shaded alleyway.

"Good call, old boy!" Nadir paused to take a long swig from his canteen. "Now, let's pick up the pace, before they've finished pocketing those coins." He took off ahead of Erik, weaving his way amidst the buildings.

"I'm right behind you, Daroga. Move faster!" Erik scowled, urging the Persian on, as they made several turns across the uneven pathways.

The smell of tannin-rich bark began to grow stronger, as they approached their destination. "The tannery is up ahead. They should be able to tell us where to purchase your Arabians." Nadir announced, in a huff.

"I can't believe we've come up empty-handed, thus far." Erik answered, with sincere annoyance.

Nadir chuckled. "I didn't expect to find Arabians, _here_, within the souks."

"And you're just _now_ telling me this?" Erik glared at Nadir.

"Well, it _was_ a long shot at most." Nadir shrugged. "But it was worth looking into."

Erik clenched his jaw, not wanting to waste any energy berating Nadir so early in the day. He knew he would need all his verbal eloquence during the price negotiations to come. Nadir stepped into the tannery and Erik followed behind him. A dark-skinned man, preparing hides to be cured in a wet-salting process, heard their arrival, but continued working. They waited, impatiently, for him to finish the piece he was working on. He was heavily soiled, in his own sweat, as he finally looked up from his workload, eyeing the two foreigners before him. He was particularly focused upon Erik, as the white of his mask was slightly visible from behind his shemagh headdress.

"Can I help you two?" The man said, gruffly.

Nadir bowed in greeting, as he addressed the tanner. "My friend and I would like to acquire two Arabian horses. Would you, by chance, know where we may transact such a deal?"

"You won't find any Arabians around here, sir. Just Barbs." The tanner returned to his work, sensing he was making the covered stranger agitated from his continued staring. He felt a cold chill, simply looking at the visible part of the mask, despite the warmth of the day.

"Yes, we _know_ that." Erik answered, sharply. He was all too familiar with the looks people gave him. No matter how much he tried to hide his face, the more curious and apprehensive people would react.

Nadir raised his hand, to stop any further outbursts. "Erik, please. I'm sure this man can help us." He looked to the tanner, hopefully.

"I can tell you of a place that has Arabians, but I doubt you will be able to persuade the owner into selling any of them." He continued to submerge several hides into their salt baths.

"Well, if you would be so kind as to tell us where this place is, we would like to find out for ourselves," Nadir relayed.

Taking another glance at the two, and eager to get them out of his shop, he decided to confide in them. "There is a Berber family, known as the Chleuh, who own a small farm, just outside of the Souss Valley, south of here. Speak with Tajmar Zahid. Let him know that I have sent you."

Nadir leaned in, closer to the tanner, and asked, "And your name is?"

"Hadhir. That is all you need to mention." He watched, as the mysterious man fled his shop.

Nadir paused a moment and offered his thanks, giving Hadhir a few coins for his trouble. He exited the shop to find Erik awaiting him.

"So, can he be trusted?" Erik asked, respecting the Persian's ability to judge a man's character.

"I sensed he was more than forthcoming with the information he provided." Nadir concluded.

"Then let's not waste anymore time. I'd like to be out of the city and on our way, as soon as possible." Erik snapped.

* * *

Christine stood on the platform of the train station, as Raoul purchased their tickets. They would have a great distance to cover, before arriving in Zanfara. One of their stops would be in Spain. _"I was to take Meg there for our honeymoon…" _Raoul sighed, as he was given the boarding tickets. He thanked the gentleman and then walked over to Christine, who was eagerly awaiting the train's arrival. 

"It shouldn't be very long. Are you hungry?" He asked, not knowing if she had eaten lunch prior to her visit.

Taking her ticket from him, she answered, "I'll be fine, Raoul. We can get something to eat in the dining car, once we're settled."

Raoul suddenly remembered what he was told, moments ago, at the ticket booth. "Speaking of which, there is a slight problem."

"What do you mean?" She asked.

"I was unable to secure two separate sleeping quarters. Actually, I was lucky enough to get these two tickets, being that the train is now completely booked. I'm afraid we're going to have to share a car together." He replied, rubbing at the back of his neck. "I know it's not very appropriate but…"

Christine held out her hands to him and he took hers into his. "It will have to do. We must do whatever it takes, to reach Meg."

He stepped closer to her, closing the gap between them, and then wrapped his arms around her. "As much as I would like to send you back to Melun, I am thankful that you are indeed here with me. I fear I would go out of my mind otherwise."

She leaned her head against his shoulder. "I'm glad to be here for you, mon ami. I know you would do the same for me."

The sound of the train's whistle startled them both, as they released one another. Christine turned to view the trains approach, as Raoul secured what little belongings he had brought with him.

* * *

Arriving at the banks of the Souss River, Erik and Nadir spotted the farm, exactly as Hadhir had mentioned, ahead of them. Several goats roamed aimlessly about the property, as they made their approach toward the small rough-hewn stone home. As they reached the front door, the neigh of a horse captured Erik's attention. 

"It's coming from the back. I'll go take a look. In the meantime, why don't you see if anyone is home?" Erik said, already walking toward the back of the house.

"Don't be long. I wouldn't want the owner to think we're up to no good."

Nadir proceeded to knock, as Erik disappeared around the corner. The door was slowly opened and a young man peered out.

"Lost?"

"Pardon?" Nadir replied, unsure of what to say.

"Are you lost? Nobody ever comes out this way."

"I was told, by Hadhir, that I might be able to acquire a couple of Arabian horses here."

"Hadhir, did you say?" The man asked, with obvious recognition in his eyes.

Nadir nodded, "Yes, the tanner in Marrakech."

"Please, come in. You will need to speak with my father, Tajmar. I only deal with the other livestock. The Arabians are my father's to oversee."

Nadir ducked into the home and was asked to wait, in what he assumed to be the dining area. It was merely set up with two chairs and a poorly constructed wooden table. As the younger man went to retrieve his father, Nadir noticed Erik from beyond the dust-covered window. He sat atop a grey Arabian, stroking its long arched neck, tenderly.

"So, you are interested in my Arabians, are you?" A new voice asked the Persian.

Startled from his observation of Erik, Nadir cleared his throat. "Yes. My friend and I…"

"Friend?" The father looked around, seeing no one else.

"Yes. He's the one who will be paying for…"

His eyes narrowed, suspiciously. "Where is this _friend_?"

Nadir glanced over to the window, slowly. Thankfully, Erik was no longer sitting on top of the horse. "He is outside with the horses."

The elder man quickly made his way to the front door, with Nadir and the younger man following close behind. They went around the side of the house and spotted Erik overlooking the grey Arabian.

"I would advise you _slowly_ step away from that one." He called out to Erik, in warning.

"Why is _that_?" Erik asked, completely focused upon the Arabian's striking features.

"Because Atreus can be very _selective_ of whom he wishes to obey," the old man said, knowingly.

Catching his attention, he looked over to the farmer. "Atreus? As in King Atreus of Mycenae?" He asked, intrigued.

"The very same. I see you are familiar with ancient Greek mythology." The elder Chleuh nodded, approvingly, impressed by the stranger's knowledge.

"I'm a bit _surprised_ a farmer," Erik raised his arms, displaying the surroundings, "out _here_, would _know_ of such things."

"I'm _equally_ surprised that a man, who goes about in _hiding_, as you obviously do, has had the time to learn _anything_ of the world around him," Tajmar retorted.

Erik bowed in apology, conceding the point. "In any case," he gracefully mounted the Arabian and trotted towards them, "Atreus seems to have taken a liking to me."

Father and son both looked at each other, in amazement, as Erik approached them, riding atop the only horse, amongst the rest, which had never been ridden.

"Good sir, I'd like to purchase Atreus and that one there." Erik pointed to the bay stallion grazing a few feet away.

"That is Thyestes."

"Then Atreus and Thyestes. Brothers, I take it." Erik smiled. "I'd like them both."

"They are not for sale, nor are any of my Arabians." The old man replied, dismissing the notion.

Stunned, Erik asked. "Surely you jest. Name your price."

"Money does not interest me. I have no need for it. My son and I do just fine without the restraints of financial burden. We are rich with spiritual wealth and harmony."

Erik dismounted the horse and began to haggle terms with Tajmar. Nadir and the younger man remained silent, as they watched them exchange words. Erik stood his ground, challenging every word Tajmar had to deny him. Becoming more and more agitated, Erik decided to force his hand. _"Perhaps a bit of persuasion is in order."_ He began to unravel his shemagh, eventually revealing his mask to the elder. He stared at Tajmar, menacingly, determined to use fear to his advantage.

"I am in _need_ of those Arabians and I am more than willing to pay for them, but do not think, for an instant, that I am not capable of procuring them by any means necessary." Erik paused in bewilderment, noting that Tajmar's expression did not change at the sight of his mask. Determined to get the reaction he anticipated would give him much needed leverage, he removed the mask completely.

As soon as the young man, beside Nadir, saw what lay beneath the mask, he ran into the house, in fear. Tajmar stood, perfectly in place, leaving Erik dumbfounded. He couldn't comprehend how this man, before him, could remain unaffected and, more so, able to speak.

"You think to scare me with your _face_, good sir? Is _that_ your final offer?" He looked upon him, unblinking, before finally bursting out, in a tremendous fit of laughter.

Erik looked to Nadir, confusion evident on his scarred face. The Persian was baffled as well, watching the exchange. Usually, Erik's visage would have people terrified and immediately more pliable.

"Enough!" Erik roared, embarrassment causing him to fumble his mask, as he tried to return it to his face. "I will _not_ be made a mockery of! Not by _you _or anyone else!" Finally getting his mask in place, he slid off the horse and walked over to Tajmar.

Resiliently matching Erik's icy glare, Tajmar raised his eyebrow and asked, "Tell me _why_ you need my horses."

"_Why_ on earth do you care?" Erik fumed, angrily. "Is it not _enough_ that I offer money for them?"

"No."

Erik paced the ground, staring at the floor while speaking. "I have traveled _many_ roads, old man. Some in darkness, but not all. Some see me as a Phantom to be afraid of, but there _are _others who care for me, despite the image."

"Go on," Tajmar said, encouragingly. "Tell me why a disfigured man, in a mask, is _worthy_ of these great animals."

Erik snarled, reaching for his sword. "You ask _too_ much!"

Nadir swiftly stepped between Erik and Tajmar, holding his friend's arms. "No, Erik! We can keep looking elsewhere."

Tajmar put his arm on Nadir's shoulder, pulling him aside, gently. "Please, continue." He said, nodding to Erik.

"I have _not_ walked this road, leaving my beloved, finding a mother I never knew, who tells me of a sister I've never dreamed about, only to be _ridiculed_ by you!" Erik said, hotly.

"And it is for them, in one way or another, that you need my horses?" Tajmar asked.

Erik turned his back on Tajmar, clasping his hands firmly behind him, trying to calm himself. "It is."

"There is _much _you hide, and not only behind that mask. I sense, greatly, that you have had many troubles in life, but rather than face them, you bury them deep within." He brought his hand to Erik's shoulder, turning him and looking straight into his eyes. "It is _not_ money that will purchase these horses. If you_ truly_ desire my Arabians, you shall have them, at the price of your mask."

Erik was stunned. "You wish to _have_ my mask in exchange for your Arabians? I _assure_ you, money would…"

"Not interest me in the least." Tajmar finished for him. "In this, you will gain not only my horses, but _hopefully_ you will come to terms with your true self."

"And what is it that _you_ will gain, by being in possession of my mask? That _hardly _seems like a fair trade to me."

"I gain the satisfaction of knowing I've freed you. Perhaps, one day, you will understand."

Erik found the whole idea to be preposterous, but on the other hand, he would be making off like a bandit, with such prized horses. The only discomfort would be in the final transaction. He would be removing his mask again, ultimately revealing his disfigurement, to which he'd rather have concealed. There were no other alternatives. The end would justify the means and the sooner he acted, the sooner he would be able to take off, in search of his sister. Still, he found himself reluctant to act.

Nadir waited anxiously for Erik's answer. For once in his life, he was uncertain of what Erik would decide.

"We have a deal." Erik said, firmly. He brought his hands up, slowly peeling away his mask, without further hesitation. "I am _merely_ a man underneath this," he said, as relinquished his mask into the hands of the elder.

Nadir stood, with his mouth agape. He couldn't believe Erik would do such a thing. He half expected him to pull out his Punjab lasso and simply strangle the man. _"It seems I'm never too old to learn something new, where Erik is concerned."_

"Indeed. You _are _just a man. Go forth into the world now and _live_ like one." Tajmar nodded his head, in approval, and then turned, leaving both men, to return into his home.

Erik mounted his horse and then whistled once. The bay Arabian tossed its head around and then slowly came toward him, while he secured his shemagh back in place. "Let's go, Daroga, before he comes to his senses and heads back out here."

Nadir mounted the horse and caught up to Erik, who had galloped off ahead of him. As they rode side by side, at a steadied pace, Nadir finally spoke up. "Honestly, I must say, I am impressed with the way you handled yourself back there. Well, aside from _almost _pulling your sword. I would have _never_ guessed you would easily be rid of your mask in such a fashion."

Erik looked over to Nadir, grinning behind his shemagh and shaking his head. "You should know I _never_ do something without careful consideration, as to the outcome. I have _plenty_ more masks where that came from."

"Erik, you are the most _underhanded_ person I know. That man was only trying to _help _you."

"I know. And even though I _do_ appreciate the thought, I didn't _need_ saving. Christine has already done that for me. As for my mask, there are times when it _is_ called for. Neither you, nor anyone else, will _ever_ be able to understand that. I have _learned_ to wear the mask. It does not wear _me _any longer."

* * *

Raoul and Christine sat in the dining car, overlooking the menu, as they were approached by the attending waiter. Before his order, he looked over to Christine, to see if she was ready. 

"Have you decided, Lotte?"

She placed her finger onto her chin, still looking over the menu before her. "Hmm, I _think_ so. I would like to start with a Soufflé au Fromage and I'd like a Salade Niçoise, on the side. And for dessert, Pommes au Four!" She announced, in delight.

The waiter nodded and then looked to Raoul, who simply placed an order for a Roquefort cheese sandwich, along with a pot of tea, for him to share with Christine.

"I would like some honey to go with my tea, _if_ possible." She grabbed the waiters arm, as he turned in the direction of the next couple, waiting to be assisted. "Oh, and can you start us off with some toasted baguette slices and an order of Pâté de Lapin?"

"Oui, Madame. Will you be in need of anything _else_?"

"That should be all." She smiled at the man and he bowed, taking his leave.

A few minutes later, the waiter returned with the large order, arranging the dishes onto the table before them.

"Bon appétit!" The waiter bowed, placing the silver tray underneath his arm.

In no particular order, Christine began to taste every item set before her. Totally engrossed in her food, Raoul watched, amused, as she ate.

"Christine? Did you not eat breakfast either?" He asked curiously.

"I had breakfast this morning. Why?" She answered, with her mouth partially full. She reached for her napkin and dabbed at the sides of her mouth.

"I've just _never_ seen you eat like this. I didn't expect…" His words trailed off, as she interrupted him.

"I didn't realize I was so hungry. Not until the food came, anyway. I _did_ have a very light breakfast, which probably explains things." She continued to eat, relishing in her sweet baked apples.

Raoul smiled, shaking his head slightly, as the food quickly disappeared before her. "Well, it appears you are doing much better. I'm sure the doctor gave you a clean bill of health this morning."

Christine stopped chewing, swallowing the mouthful of food in one intense gulp. She hadn't seen a doctor, as she had promised him. It had completely slipped her mind since she was feeling much better, after the night's sleep she had gotten. Not wanting to disappoint her dear childhood friend, she thought up a quick response.

"Oui, I'm feeling much better. Merci, Raoul," she smiled. _"Well, it's not necessarily a lie. That should be good enough to satisfy him."_

They finished their lunch and then returned to their car, to relax, before the next stop.

* * *

**Author's Note**  
Okay, I know, not much happened in this update, but believe me, this "filler" chapter was necessary for the storyline. There's much more to come! I promise not to disappoint. -wink- A huge thank you to all my readers! The reviews have been most welcomed. -hugs- 


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note**  
There's a scene that may offend those who are squeamish. Honestly, it's really not that bad, but I thought I'd add a warning here, just in case anyone is sensitive to bloodshed.

On with the show…

**CHAPTER 12**

Several days had passed, with Raoul and Christine boarding numerous trains south, through Spain. The fascinating country was rich in art and culture. One could easily fall in love with all it had to offer a vacationing traveler, but unfortunately for them, they were merely passing through. They traveled across Zaragoza, a province in the old Kingdom of Aragón, during the medieval times, and into Alicante. Its enrapturing beauty was pervaded with the savor of the sea, plying its deeply-felt role as a seaport, as it has always done. The harbor had been the strength of the city for centuries, sending products abroad and bringing in goods from all over the world. Now, it would take them across the Mediterranean Sea and to Algeria.

Docking into Algeria, they were now in Algiers, known to many as the Paris of North Africa. They were weary from their travels and the journey ahead would prove, still, to be even more of a challenge. They disembarked the ship and entered a small tavern, which played host to newly arrived travelers. Raoul secured two rooms, and sent Christine upstairs, to get some rest.

"Where are you going?" Christine asked, as he handed a room key to her.

"I need to speak with those men over there," Raoul glanced over to the foreigners at the bar, "I won't be long. I'll be up in a few moments."

Christine nodded, allowing Raoul to take his leave. _"This place is full of people. No harm should come to him here,"_ she thought, as she climbed the rickety steps to her room.

As promised, Raoul came knocking upon her room door. "Christine? Are you awake?"

"One moment, Raoul," she called out, placing the hairbrush onto the vanity. She rose from the chair, hurrying to the door and unlocking it. As he entered the room, she offered him the chair she had been brushing her hair in, moments earlier, while she seated herself upon the bed.

"I've made contact with the leader of a caravan. His tribe is headed south, with a herd of camel, and he has agreed to take us with them across the desert." Raoul's exhaustion was evident, as he sank into the chair, with a long sigh of relief.

Christine looked up at him, with uncertainty in her eyes.

"Don't worry, Christine. We're in good hands. Tribes, such as these, have been traveling back and forth, through the desert, for centuries," he offered, reassuringly.

"I trust you, Raoul, but," she paused and then continued nervously, "I'm just not sure what to expect out there."

"You'll be fine. Not only are these people well-prepared for the trip, but I also have extensive survival training." Attempting to lighten the mood, he puffed out his chest theatrically, adding, "Thanks to the Navy, of course," he smiled, knowing she was concerned about Meg, just as much as he was. Nevertheless, he hoped to keep her spirits up.

Still worried, Christine managed a smile, in return. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

* * *

Traveling through the Saharan Desert is a test of pure strength, endurance and will; three factors that Erik and Nadir possessed in abundance. Deep in the desert's interior, restless winds hurried across the desolate landscape. At times, these winds became an unrelenting irritation. The fine sand, driven by the gales, blew fierce, causing both man and horse to sneeze, and was particularly painful to the eyes. 

The oases they'd come across, helped in easing their hours of travel from the blazing sun and sizzling temperatures. This was also a time to make sure that the shoes, of their mounts, remained intact and its feet unobstructed, from the varying terrain they journeyed through. Certain areas, of the sand plains, harbored hard ridges of quartz rock, lightly covered with sand, which could potentially score the feet of the horse. While in other places, the horses were endangered by soft holes, which pitted the clay and gravel.

Erik finished inspecting Atreus and then proceeded to sit against a palm, a few feet away. He reached for his water flask, at his side, and took a swig from it. Nadir was speaking to a group of camel herders, now sharing their resting area. The men bowed to each other, formally, and then Nadir walked over to where Erik was.

Pulling a cluster of dates, which conveniently hung low from its crown, Nadir sat down, next to Erik, handing him some. They leaned, wearily, against the trunk of the palm, as they shared the fruit.

"I am pleased with our progress, thus far," Erik commented, as he finished the last date in his hand. "At this rate, we will be in Bornu in no time at all." He brought his hands to his head, unraveling his shemagh to remove it.

The Persian nodded, in agreement. "Our friends, there," he pointed over to the group of tribesmen he had been speaking with, "tell us we've come farther than I thought. The Arabian's capacity _is_ truly amazing, to be able to survive in the toughest of surroundings and on, no doubt, its longest ever journey." Nadir turned his head toward Erik, staring at his friend's new mask for a moment before adding, "_Must_ you wear that thing? Your shemagh already covers the majority of your face, _which_, I might add, still does not do a _thing_ for your looks, old boy."

"I _wear_ this in case we have any run-ins with hostile tribes or marauders. They would think twice, before attacking a man in death's very mask. _Though_," he looked back at Nadir with a grin, "perhaps you _are_ right, Daroga. The site of your bare face, alone, should scare _any _formidable foe." Erik chuckled, unfastening his mask, as Nadir cursed, under his breath, in Farsi. He dampened his handkerchief and then began to wipe away at the mix of sweat and grime. "It'll be dark soon. Let's set up camp here, so that Atreus and Thyestes get a well-deserved night's rest, as well as enough food and water. The next oasis will be further out."

* * *

Christine sighed heavily, hanging her head, as they waited at the tribe's encampment, on the outskirts of town. 

Raoul turned to her, "It won't be long, Lotte. They are gathering the camels together, even now. We'll be leaving shortly."

She nodded. "It's not that, Raoul."

"What is it then?"

She looked around, gesturing with her hands. "It's this. All of this!" She said, exasperated.

He looked at her, puzzled. "What do you mean, Christine?"

"I guess it's just now hitting me, after weeks of travel. I'm worried about Meg so much that I can hardly think about anything else. Yet, I can't help but worry more about what we'll find at our destination."

"I did encourage you to stay home, unsuccessfully, if you recall." Raoul responded, with a smirk.

She shook her head, "No, no. I just can't stand to think of Meg in the hands of those men and what they could be doing to her." She closed her eyes and whispered, "Or if she's even still alive."

Raoul's knuckles turned white, as he gripped the butt of his saber, intensely. "If they've harmed even one hair on her head, I will make sure they meet a painfully death, at the end of my sword, before sending them all to hell!" He turned away, but not before she could see the tears beginning in his eyes.

Christine kept her silence, wishing she had kept her fears to herself. There was nothing she could do about it now. She was about to apologize, but was interrupted, as the sound of a whistle blew from the head drover. The caravan was assembled and now ready.

"It's time to go," Raoul said, softly, before walking off, toward the caravan.

* * *

"It _amazes_ me how people live in this hell," Erik noted, sardonically, as they rode under the midday sun. 

Nadir smiled. "These people are _born_ to this life and are accustomed to it, but for you and I, it's a test of our strength and faith, my friend."

"It's a test of my _patience_, Daroga."

"Allah tests us all in different ways," Nadir replied, simply.

Erik snorted, in derision. "Allah can _keep_ this one," he said, adjusting his shemagh to keep sand from getting into his mouth.

Nadir reigned in, suddenly, motioning for Erik to do the same. Their horses pawed at the ground, protesting the sudden move.

"What is it?" Erik asked, looking around.

Nadir held up his hand, signaling for silence. His eyes scanned the dunes around them. "I thought I saw something over that hill," he gestured ahead of them. He pulled his blade from its sheath, slowly. "Let us not be unprepared."

Erik nodded and pulled his sword as well. The two moved forward, at a careful trot, looking all around them.

The attack came suddenly. A figure emerged from over the dune and raised a short hunter's bow, launching an arrow at them. As Erik and Nadir made their approach, several more men appeared, the sun reflecting off of their raised swords.

Watching the arrow sail, horribly off course, Nadir laughed. "There are only five of them. Should we give them the chance to surrender peacefully?"

Erik's eyes grew cold. "I think not."

"Give up your horses, your weapons, _and_ your money and we'll let you live!" One of the raiders called out, his tulwar raised, threateningly, toward them.

Nadir observed the one with a bow, as he nocked and launched another poorly aimed arrow at them. "We could always go around, you know?" Erik spurred his horse in a charge, leaving Nadir behind. "Or not," he muttered, to himself, as he clicked his heels, hurrying to catch up to Erik.

The men at the top of the dune seemed startled, at the actions of the pair. One cried out a warning at them, and another whistled long and loud, as they readied their weapons.

As Erik and Nadir crested the dune, they saw the five men, on foot, were being joined by three riders, on horseback. "Those are yours, Daroga. I'll play with this group," Erik snarled.

"As you wish," Nadir dug his heels into the side of his horse, taking off, in the direction of the approaching horsemen. He dodged a feeble swing, from one of the raiders on the ground, as he passed.

An arrow soared far, overhead, from the bowman. Erik paid him no heed, as he swung his sword down, hard, against a hastily raised blade. The men gathered on all sides of him, but his mastery of Atreus had the beast whirling in a circle, allowing him to parry all attempts to hit him. He kicked out with his left foot, catching one man in the face, sending him sprawling, as he lunged with his sword at the man on his right. Blood erupted in a fountain, as his blade met the man's throat.

Facing two now, he dropped down, off his horse, and whipped his cloak up, to catch the lunging blade of an attacker, while deftly blocking the thrust of the second. The one he'd kicked, earlier, regained his footing and charged at him. Erik ducked another stroke and slashed wickedly across the man's belly, his entrails spilling out onto the hot sand. Smiling, with grim satisfaction, he quickly speared the other through the chest. The one running at him paused, cursing, as an arrow caught him low in the thigh. Erik laughed and walked up to him, swiftly dispatching him with one stroke.

Nadir appeared to have things well in hand. Erik noticed two bodies, lying on the ground, their horses wandering aimlessly. The Persian slashed the last horseman across the chest, twice. As the man fell to his knees, Nadir pushed him back, with his foot, and watched him tumble down the dune. He turned his attention toward the one with the bow, as he struggled to reload, realizing he was all alone now. As Erik got closer, he realized the man was not a man at all, but a boy of perhaps fifteen years.

"Who _are_ you?" The boy yelled in frustration, his fingers fumbling yet another arrow to the ground.

Whipping off his shemagh, Erik looked down on the boy, "I am your DEATH!" He raised his bloody sword high, intending to intimidate the young man.

Wide-eyed, the boy gave up all attempts to nock the bow and threw it down. "Please! Don't kill me! I'm sorry!" He pleaded, submissively.

Erik glared menacingly, causing the boy to fall to his knees. He shut his eyes, in terror, awaiting his fate. In a sinister whisper, Erik cautioned the young man, "Go home, boy, and don't _ever_ let me see you again."

The boy opened his eyes, looking up at the dark figure. Nodding his head, slowly, he quickly scrambled to his feet and ran off into the sands.

Witnessing the boy take off across the desert, Nadir strolled up to Erik, with Thyestes in tow. "You know, old boy, I think you enjoyed that just a _little_ too much."

Erik chuckled, as he moved to retrieve Atreus. "It _has_ its moments."

Nadir shook his head, smiling. "Come. We still have a lot of ground to cover before the next oasis."

Erik climbed onto his horse. With one clean stroke, he wiped his blade and secured it in its sheath. "Oh, Daroga...?"

The Persian grabbed his reigns and turned to face Erik. "Yes?"

"Ask Allah if we've passed his test." Erik urged Atreus forward and back on course, across the Sahara.

Nadir called out to him, "_This _one... Yes!"

Following after Erik, they rode off, leaving the bodies of their enemies to the scavengers of the desert.

* * *

Dunes and rock simmered under the sun's relentless glare, as Christine became strangely enticed by the mystical spirit of the world's largest desert. _"It's hostile, but yet stunningly beautiful." _The caravan of camels made its way across the sands, as the sun slowly began to dip below the dunes. In the distance, life seemed to be concentrated around one oasis, which was to be their first stop, amongst about a handful of oases on the way. Christine noted the abundance of plant life, flourishing, despite the arid vastness that surrounded them. 

"It looks like we'll be settling here tonight. Is everything alright so far?" Raoul asked, finally breaking the silence between them. He rode along side her and reached for his water flask. "Do you still have water?"

Christine raised her hand, rejecting his offer. "I still have some, but we'll need to replenish the rest of our supply, before we head out again." She patted the satchel at her side. As Raoul placed his flask back in its place, Christine continued, "Raoul, about what I said earlier…"

"It's alright, Lotte. We just need to have faith. God will take care of Meg, just as he will take care of us," he promised her.

"You're right. We've come this far, without fail. I'm sure everything will be fine," she said, confidently.

"As for our supplies, I'll be sure to take care of it, once I've set up our camp. I hope the items I've acquired will be sufficient for you. The desert can be almost as unforgiving at night as it is during the day," he announced.

"I trust you, Raoul, Remember?" She winked, smiling at him, and then looked ahead toward the glistening oasis.

* * *

Erik and Nadir watched the sun give way to the coolness of the desert's night sky, as they reached the next oasis. They set up their tents and retired immediately, completely fatigued from the event's of the day. The morning would bring more of the same, _"Hopefully undisturbed, this time." _Erik wrapped his blanket around him, allowing sleep to free him from his thoughts. 

_The desert plains dissolved and gave way to a stage. A spotlight silhouetted her frame, as she stood beyond his reach, and yet she seemed to encompass him. He tried, in vain, to call out to her, but he couldn't find his voice. As she began to sing, her angelic words clung to his soul, taking complete control over him._

_Steal away into the night,  
where we can be as one...  
I'll look to you to hold me tight,  
until the morning sun..._

_Love, it's you I truly miss,  
my heart I can't deny...  
I'll look to you for one last kiss,  
before we say goodbye…_

_She slowly began to fade and as darkness surrounded him once more, he finally found his voice…_

"CHRISTINE!" Erik shouted, suddenly waking from his slumber.

"I'll take that as a good morning," Nadir called out from beyond his tent. "The horses are prepared, whenever you are ready to depart."

"Now," Erik said, as he got up and gathered his things.

* * *

_She lit two candles, one for her father and the other for her him. She sat quietly, hoping her prayers would be answered. _

"_Tell me, what troubles you?"_

"_I… I am alone…"_

"_Why do you believe this is so?"_

"_My father has passed so long ago… and…my Angel is no longer with me…"_

"_But I am with you."_

_She stood up and looked all around her. The glow of the candlelight flickered once, giving way to her new surroundings. She now stood beneath a starry sky, with a moonlit backdrop, covering miles and miles of desert._

"_Where am I?"_

"_With me…"_

"_But I don't see you…"_

"_You do not have to see me to know I am with you."_

"_Angel, please… I… I…"_

"_I love you, Christine… I am always with you… always there… inside your mind…"_

_His voice faded, disappearing in a whisper, and carried off with the wind. She desperately tried to summon him back. She couldn't stand being without him any longer._

"_I love you too! Please don't go! Please don't leave me, Angel… ANGEL!"_

"ERIK!" Christine yelled, sitting up and being confronted by a concerned Raoul.

"I apologize for coming into your tent, but you were mumbling in your sleep and you sounded distressed. I thought it might be best to wake you." Raoul smiled, brushing her curls away from her face. "In fact, I've been trying to get you up for the past five minutes now."

"I'm sorry I worried you. What time is it?"

"Five thirty. We leave at six. I've taken care of all our supplies. All that's left is your tent."

"I'll be ready in ten minutes."

"I'll let you get dressed. If you need _anything_, I'll be right outside."

"Merci, Raoul," she said quietly, going over her dreams, in her mind, once more.

* * *

**Author's Note x2**  
Ok, this should be the last filler, before we get everyone where they need to be. I apologize for the late update, but I forgot this was Easter weekend. I was gone most of the day, for Good Friday. Anyway, I hope everyone has a good weekend! -hands Easter eggs to everyone- To those who don't celebrate the holiday, I give you Phantom Cupcakes! –smiles- 


	13. Chapter 13

**CHAPTER 13**

Weeks of traveling had brought Meg to this unlikely place. A seedy bar, in the heart of Zanfara, was merely the latest stop for her, on her unhappy journey. Sebastien had said little to her, during the entire trip. She hadn't bothered to talk to him or any of his other cohorts either. She thought it best to keep quiet, in fear of the unknown. She knew these men were not to be taken lightly, especially Sebastien. _"That man is so vile!" _She thought to herself, as she was roughly forced into her seat. She watched, with hatred in her eyes, as Ranier and Guifford went to get some drinks at the bar.

Sebastien placed his hands behind his head, leaning back, arrogantly, in his chair. "I know this isn't quite what you're _accustomed_ to, Comtesse, but think of it as a small _inconvenience_. Should your husband come to his senses, _this_ will all be over soon."

Meg rolled her eyes, in resentment of the man, and then looked away, toward a window. _"I can't stand the sight of him and his poisonous words!" _

"Now, now, Comtesse, you'll only be in my presence for a few more days. Why not make our last moments together, _enjoyable_," Sebastien said, leering at her discomfort.

Disgusted by his presumptions, she quickly turned in his direction, contempt evident in her eyes. Sebastien let out a hearty laugh, as Ranier and Guifford returned with the drinks. "Ah _yes_, that's how I like my women," Sebastien shot out, "_fiery _and full of _spirit_! There's no fun without a challenge, right boys?"

Ranier took a seat next to Sebastien, as Guifford offered a glass to Meg. "I don't want it!" She yelled, smacking the glass out of Guifford's hand. It dropped to the floor, but the shattering glass did nothing to garner the attention of the other patrons.

"Tsk, tsk, that's no way to _behave_, my dear." Sebastien chuckled, "No one will _help_ you here. In fact, _these_ people would do far _worse_ things to you. It may be hard for you to believe, but we're actually keeping you safe," he smiled, savoring the irony.

Guifford frowned at the exchange, shaking his head. The big man lowered himself, to pick up the pieces of glass shards from the floor.

"I need to freshen up," Meg said, hastily.

"Guifford," Sebastien nudged the man's back, with his left boot, "get up from there and leave that mess! Escort our _guest_ to the powder room," he ordered.

Meg stood up and turned away from Guifford's outstretched hand. He dropped his hand, in embarrassment, and moved to follow her.

"Don't try anything _foolish_!" Sebastien called out to her. He reached out and grabbed Guifford's arm, firmly. "Keep a _close_ eye on her." He gave a warning squeeze and then released him.

Watching them go, Ranier took a sip of his drink. "We should have sent him off with Jean," he mused, pulling his dagger from his belt and inspecting it.

"_You_ should have left him in Compiègne!" Sebastien countered, with a smirk. "No matter, _he _can do the babysitting. We've got more important things to attend to. No doubt, that _fop_ is just a few days behind us. We'll need to make sure everything is in order. We _may _have a fight on our hands, but the Comtesse should _assure_ smooth negotiations."

"And if not…?" Ranier asked, intently.

"We kill them both," Sebastien said, easily.

"That's an outcome I'm looking forward to," Ranier said, his eyes dark, as he sharpened his blade.

* * *

The torturous desert heat was unrelenting, yet they pushed forward knowing they drew closer and closer to their destination. There was no civilization in sight. Surrounded by miles of desert and the beating rays of the sun, Christine could barely stay focused. 

Keeping a watchful eye, beside her, Raoul reached for his canteen. "Christine? Take this," he held it out to her, "I haven't seen you drink anything in awhile. You _must_ stay hydrated out here."

She reached for the canteen, but her hands were shaking from exhaustion and she was unable to get a steady grip. It dropped onto the desert sand, the water spilling out and quickly being absorbed by their barren surroundings.

Raoul whistled sharply, causing the caravan to stop. "A moment… please!" He called to the head drover. As the leader of the caravan waved his hand, in acknowledgement, Raoul nodded and hopped down from his camel. He picked the canteen up and placed it into his satchel, in turn, pulling a small blanket from another. He laid it out, onto the ground, and then turned to Christine, with his hands raised to her. "Come, Lotte. We have a few moments to rest, but then we need to be off again."

Christine placed her hands to his shoulders, while he held her waist, bringing her down carefully. She seated herself upon the blanket, as Raoul grabbed a fresh canteen. He brought himself to rest beside her, and then handed it to her.

"I'm sorry, Raoul. I told myself I wouldn't be a bother on this trip," Christine said, apologetically, as she took a sip from the canteen.

Raoul nodded, in understanding. "Your condition is perfectly normal, given these surroundings. I am actually quite impressed that you've been able to tough it out, thus far. There are a lot of good men that couldn't have come half the distance that you have. Trust me," he winked.

Christine smiled, slightly. "Believe me, I felt like dying miles ago," she said, gesturing at the vastness of desert behind them.

"Don't even joke, Lotte. I wouldn't be able to live with myself, if that happened to you."

"You're right. Erik would kill you," she giggled at him and took a longer sip from the canteen.

"Touché," Raoul conceded and then looked ahead of him, as raised voices drew his attention. In the distance, several men seemed to be standing in a circle, while others scrambled from their mounts.

"What could it be?" Christine asked.

"I'm not sure. I'd better go take a look." He stood up and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Will you be alright?"

"Oui," she nodded, "go see what all the commotion is about."

Raoul weaved his way through the line of camels and men. The voices grew stronger, as he neared the crowd hovering over one location. From what he could make out, they seemed to be arguing about a spirit. _"These nomads and their superstitions..."_ Raoul shook his head. Unable to see exactly what they were concentrated on, he placed his hand on one of the men's shoulders. "What's happening here?" Raoul asked, curiously.

The man just looked at him and turned his head away.

"_What the…?" _Raoul pushed several men aside, to get closer to whatever it was that had everyone in such an uproar. The first thing he saw was a bloodied foot and as he finally got to the front, he noticed it belonged to a young man. Seeing the sun blistered and cracked skin of his exposed arms and legs, he cried out, "My God, get that boy some water!"

Nobody moved. Everyone continued to whisper and stare at the boy, who lay mumbling, half-dead. "Please, get some water," Raoul snapped at the closest man beside him. As if slowly being brought out of a trance, the man turned in the direction of his mount, to do as requested.

"Give him room!" Raoul demanded.

The gathering of men stepped back, slowly, as Raoul fell to his knees, bringing the boy up and cradling his head.

"Shaytan… Shaytan…," the boy gasped.

"Shhh, try not to speak. Water is on the way," Raoul said, trying to shield the boy from the sun.

Christine watched from afar, as one of the men left the group and retrieved something from his pack, attached to his mount, before rushing off again toward the men. Feeling stronger now, she stood up and gathered the blanket, folding it in the process. She secured it within Raoul's belongings and then made her way toward the crowd.

"Here," the tribesman said, catching his breath, as he handed the canteen to Raoul.

"Drink," Raoul ordered, as he held the canteen to the boy's mouth.

After several gulps, the boy began to speak more coherently. "You must flee this place," he said, hoarsely, his eyes wild. "You all will be consumed by the evil one," he spoke louder, so those around him could hear his warning.

Ignoring his rant, Raoul asked, "Why are you out here alone?"

"I was not alone. I was with some men who were overpowered by the Shaytan!" The boy began to cough and Raoul, once again, brought the canteen to his lips.

"Raoul? What's going on?" Christine asked, as she squeezed herself between the men. "Mon dieu! Where did he come from?" She asked, swiftly kneeling on the other side of the boy.

"I have no idea what he's doing out here. He keeps rambling on about some 'Shaytan.' He must be delusional. Lord knows how long he's been out here. With no water, food, or shelter, he is surely suffering from some sort of desert hallucinations."

"I wouldn't be too sure of that," the head drover finally spoke up.

"What are you saying?" Raoul asked him, looking up from the boy.

"The boy speaks of a devil, known amongst my people as the Shaytan."

"While I have no doubt this desert can be compared to the likes of Hell, _surely _you do not believe this boy has seen an _actual_ devil in the flesh?"

"I speak the truth!" The boy insisted, his weak voice rising, in anger.

"What is your name and why are you wandering the desert in such a condition?" Christine asked, tenderly, as she viewed him. She took his hand into hers, hoping to calm him.

"I am Mahdi… the only survivor of my group. We were traveling across the Sahara when we were attacked by the Shaytan and his dark brother."

"You are a marauder. I see the mark upon your hand." The head drover pointed out the customary tattoos, common among desert raiders. "You were not attacked, but were, in fact, the attackers."

Christine noticed strange scrawling on the back of the hand she held.

Mahdi tore his hand free of hers. "You are _all _doomed if you go any further! He will taint your blood and whisper his _evi_l into your minds! All that shall greet you is the face of death!"

The superstitious tribesmen took another step back, gasping and whispering amongst themselves again.

"This is ridiculous! There's _no_ devil ahead of us. This boy is _simply_ suffering from heat exhaustion." Raoul reasoned.

The head drover shook his head, in disagreement. "My people hold their beliefs _very _strongly, as do I. We should not take his words lightly, even though he _is_ a bandit."

"What are you saying then?" Raoul asked, his eyes narrowing.

"We shall take the route east," the head drover resolved.

The men around him muttered words of agreement, nodding at each other.

Raoul gaped, in disbelief. "But, that will take weeks!"

"It _must_ be done. My people will not travel along this route, now that it has been tainted."

"_Time_ is a luxury I cannot afford!" Raoul pleaded, "I beg of you, we must continue on _this_ route."

"The beliefs of my people, as well as my own, do not _bind_ you or your companion," the head drover stated. He nodded toward the direction they were headed, "You are both free to continue on."

"You expect us to travel on _foot_?" Raoul asked, visibly outraged.

"No. I _expect_ you to bring my camels to their destination. I _trust_ you will do this?"

He took a moment to consider it. The delay of detouring with the rest of the group, would leave Meg in the hands of her captors even longer. That was something he chose not to think about. "Agreed. You have my word."

"Raoul, are you _sure_? Can we _do_ this?" Christine asked, hesitantly.

"We _can_ and we _will_," Raoul said, trying to sound more confident than he felt.

"You make the right choice," Mahdi said, as he looked up to the head drover. He turned to face Raoul, with shock and disgust apparent on his face. "You would condemn _her_ to death?" He then looked to Christine, reaching out to her. "You are _much _too beautiful to let the Shaytan's mask of _death _take you."

Christine pulled away from him, standing abruptly. She rushed off, pushing through the crowd.

"Christine!" Raoul called out to her. He shoved the canteen into Mahdi's hand and then chased after her. "Christine, wait!" As he caught up to her, he grabbed her arm and turned her. Tears covered her face, as he met her eye to eye.

"Please don't be afraid, Lotte. You know I would _never_ insist on us traveling in these conditions if I wasn't absolutely _positive_ in us making it."

"It's… it's not that…"

"Then what is it? Don't tell me _you_ believe in that boy's strange superstitious story?"

"I'm not sure _what_ it is, Raoul, but when he mentioned the death mask, I don't know… I had this sudden premonition of Erik. It's as if in _that_ moment, he was right beside me. Do you think…"

"Don't even think it, Christine. It's impossible. You told me yourself, that Erik was with Nadir in Morocco. There would be no reason for them to be out here in the Sahara."

"But then _why _do I feel him? Even now…." She lowered her head, tears flowing freely.

"Because you _want_ it to be true. We may all be on the same continent, but I assure you, Erik is nowhere near us. I need you here, with me, Christine," he held her face between his hands, brushing her tears away, "I need you to stay focused, okay?" He looked into her eyes, searching for an answer.

She refused to give up on what little she had of Erik. It had been over a month since she last saw him and the longer he was gone the more and more he haunted her memories. The dream she had of him had heightened her senses and now, after this, she felt him more strongly than ever before. _"Like all those times in the chapel of the opera house or in my dressing room."_ She cared about Raoul and wanted to be there for him and Meg, so she nodded her head, deciding to keep her feelings to herself.

"Come then. We've wasted enough time out here." He helped her up onto her camel and then climbed onto his.

As they moved forward, toward the south, they watched the rest of the caravan file eastward. Raoul simply shook his head, as the drover waved to him in the distance.

* * *

As Erik and Nadir traveled the last leg of their journey, he looked over at his masked companion, who seemed to be in a daze. 

"Erik? Is there something wrong?" He waited a few moments for a response. When none was given, he decided to yell his name. "Erik!"

"What _is_ it, Daroga?" Erik replied, irritated.

"I should be asking _you_ the same thing. Did you not hear me?"

Erik couldn't shake the image of Christine from his mind. The dream he had seemed too surreal, as if he could actually reach out and touch her. He was beginning to even smell her rose and lavender scent invading his senses. "I'm _fine_. What did you _want_?"

"Well, you seemed to be drifting off course. I thought you may have fallen asleep."

Erik looked around the seemingly endless desert. "It's been ages since I've been out like this. The daylight does _not _suit me."

"Are you _sure_ that's all it is, old boy?" Nadir asked, inquisitively.

Erik cursed Nadir in his mind. His ability to read people came in handy, but at this moment in time, it was an annoyance. He decided to play it off, not wanting to speak of Christine and his love life to the Persian. "Of course, what else would it be?"

"You've been quiet since we left our last stop, which was hours ago, and it will soon be dark. I was thinking your reason for suddenly becoming a mute has something to do with your dream of Christine." Nadir insisted.

"_Nadir_…" Erik said, in an obvious tone of warning.

"You know, I _am _capable of listening, if you want to talk about it. It would be good for you to cleanse your conscience. I'll even _promise_ to remain silent, _if_ you wish.

Erik looked over to Nadir, raising his eyebrow at him. "I've never known you to be… _quiet_…"

Nadir grinned. "That may be true, though in _this_ instance I'll make an exception. It is a one time offer, Erik. I _suggest_ you take advantage of it."

They were still hours away from reaching civilization. Erik weighed his options. _"I either listen to him ramble on and on, incessantly, until we reach Bornu or bear a few moments of humiliation."_

"If you don't wish to talk about it, that's fine. Although, is it _really_ that difficult to decide? I would think…"

"I don't care _what_ you think, Daroga. Now, shut up so I can talk." He eyed the Persian, adding an extra precaution, "I _expect_ you to keep your word or I'll feed your tongue to the scorpions."

Nadir bowed his head, smiling at the hollow threats. He motioned with his hand for Erik to begin.

"I _won't_ be going into details, so you can wipe that grin off of your face."

Nadir cleared his throat and a few moments passed before Erik felt comfortable enough to speak up.

"There's not a day that has passed that I haven't thought about Christine, but that dream I had has really struck a nerve within me. I know she is miles away, in France, but yet I've never felt her presence this intensely. Not since those days I lurked below the cellars of the opera house. I've tried to shake this sensation from my mind, but even now I can smell her and it's driving me mad." He looked over to Nadir, who remained silent, and then continued. "I _must_ maintain hold on my faculties. There will be no room for error, where we are headed, but yet I don't want to be free of her. She does so much for me," he sighed. "It's difficult to explain and even if I could, you would not understand the depths of how much she affects me." He paused in thought, looking toward the endless blue sky.

Nadir cleared his throat again, coughing several times. Without turning his head, Erik rolled his eyes, "_Say_ what you have to say because I know you're _dying_ to tell me something.

"I wish only to say a few words and then you may have the rest of the journey to ponder them, as I shall keep my promise to you."

"Get _on_ with it, Daroga." Erik snapped at him, uncomfortable with sharing his feelings in such a manner.

"Perhaps you should not be so quick to banish her from your thoughts. I think, in fact, you should welcome it."

"And why is that?"

"Because though you _perceive_ it is a distraction, it is _actually _keeping you very much sane. The distraction is in you _fighting_ this feeling. You should allow it to _strengthen _your resolve, instead. When the time comes, I have faith that you will see us through whatever lies ahead of us. It is because we draw nearer to our destination, that Christine has come to you. It is _she_ that keeps you focused, for she is what you live for. And you _will_ return to her, Erik. The bond you share with each other is something Allah himself could not sever, nor any of the Gods."

Silence hung between them for several hours, as they rode across the desert, before Erik turned his head and finally spoke up.

"Daroga...?" He said, hesitantly. "Your words truly helped me. I had a lot of time to think about it and as much as I _hate_ to admit it, you were right. I've spent the last few hours allowing her to take hold of me and, I must say, I've never felt more resilient. So, thank you, Nadir. For that, I shall not hold you to your promise. You may speak," he announced, as he looked across to the faint signs of life in the distance.

"Praise, Allah! You know how _difficult_ it is for me to…"

Erik spurred Atreus forward and laughed heartily. "What's that, Daroga? You'll have to speak up!" His voiced faded quickly, as the sand the Arabian kicked up settled around the Persian and his horse.

"Let's not have him get the best of us!" Nadir took firm hold of the reins and dug his heels into Thyestes's sides. "We shall show him how an Arabian is _truly_ to be ridden!"

* * *

The Jeweled Moon, in Kukawa, was a hammam bathing house, tailored to Faraj Ajani's own design and not denoting any particular religious ties, as one would normally be accustomed to with such places. With its elaborate theme of outlandish ornaments, carpets, and mosaics, they were hardly noticeable, as the scores of attendants, women in exotic dress, remained at the ready to cater to their patrons. 

As Jean entered the bathing house, the smell of incense was almost suffocating, but the added scent of pomegranate oil helped in balancing it out to a tolerable level. He was escorted by two large men, down the marbled side hall, and asked to wait outside of the large, hand-carved, broken arch doors. He was soon greeted by Faraj, the master of the house, who emerged from beyond the door.

Faraj was a giant of a man, nearly seven feet tall, with thick corded muscles on his frame. Yet he moved with a grace that belied his size. "Ah, Jean, you are still uglier than ever! Come in!" He said merrily, turning his back to him and entering the room.

Jean's eyes were like daggers, staring ahead, as he followed his host.

"So is everything in order?" Faraj asked with a smile, sitting down behind his desk. He offered Jean the seat across from him.

"Don't you believe in comfort, man?" Jean questioned, seeing nothing but bare wood furniture.

"Comfort is reserved for the bedrooms. _This_ is business," Faraj stated, simply. "Now, don't _change_ the subject, just _answer_ the question. I assume there's been a change of plans, _otherwise_ you wouldn't be sitting here before me."

"The Comte would not comply with your wishes," Jean informed him

Faraj steepled his fingers together and leaned forward in his chair. "And how did you and Sebastien _remedy_ the situation? If you've come here empty handed, then you will leave here empty handed… at the wrists!" Faraj laughed, but Jean knew that the implied violence was very real.

"We've taken Le Comtesse as an insurance measure," Jean continued, beginning to sweat nervously.

Faraj leaned back and considered it, the wooden chair creaking under his shifting weight. "Very good. Sebastien is one devious fellow. He never fails me."

"He and the others are at Shamira's Eye, but I expect they are not far behind me. Ranier will be guiding Le Comte to us, upon his impending arrival."

"Then I must have some rooms prepared." Faraj clapped his hands twice and one of his hulking guards entered the room.

"Show this man to the Jade room and send for my 'tigress.'"

The eunuch bowed and held the door open for Jean. They exited and Faraj was left in silence to consider the news.

Shortly afterward, a feminine voice spoke up. "What do you _want_, Faraj?" A stunningly beautiful woman asked, as she entered the room.

"Is that any way to address me, my dear? After _all _these years, under _my_ supervision, you should know to teach me with respect or need I _remind_ you?" He laid a large hand on the handle of a drawer, beside him, ominously.

"No, master," she said, softer this time. "What is it that you ask of me?"

Faraj stood up. "That's better. We are expecting guests and you will be in charge of taking care of the female."

"She will be rooming with me?" She asked, confused.

"Is there a _problem_ with that?" He walked over to her and caressed her cheek.

"Yes! I _prefer_ my privacy!" She said, defiantly staring up at his stern features.

"This woman is _very_ important to me and my business. You will do as you're told or you will spend the rest of the year _servicing_ the lower station men! Now, leave me before your _impudence_ provokes me further." He pinched her cheek hard, causing her to wince in pain.

She bowed to her master and then turned, starting to leave. As she walked past the door and entered the hall, Faraj called out to her, "Do _not _disappoint me… Alhena!"

* * *

**Author's Note**  
I just wanted to wish all of you a great weekend! -hugs- Oh, and if anyone is interested in viewing my newest video (Phantom movie clips with added features), you can find the link (listed as "My Gerry Vid #2) at my website, located under my profile. Just click my author name above and then click on "homepage." Cheers!  



	14. Chapter 14

**CHAPTER 14**

Raoul and Christine arrived on the outskirts of Zanfara, just past midnight. Seeing Christine half asleep on her mount, he decided it would be best to set up camp and get some rest before heading into town. _"We'll leave first thing, in the morning,"_ he thought. Had he been alone, he would have pressed on, regardless of how exhausted he was, but for Christine's sake, he conceded to her well-being. _"I could use the rest, anyway. I'll need to have a clear head, for whatever will take place, once we reach Shamira's Eye."_

"You're all set, Lotte," he said, as he finished setting up her tent. He stood up and looked over at her, seeing that she was rummaging through her satchel. "Missing something?"

Startled, she replied, "Huh? Oh, no, I'm okay. It's just that I've been rotating the same outfits for the last few weeks and…" she hesitated, slightly embarrassed.

"And…?" He asked as he walked over to her.

"Well, I'm beginning to smell like a musty mop," she sighed.

Raoul chuckled. "_I_ probably smell like an old shoe, but I promise, we'll get cleaned up and buy some new garments, once we're in town, okay?"

"Will we have time? I'd hate to delay any longer. If I can just get cleaned up, I can wash our things in a basin."

"I fear these clothes may be beyond any washing. We'll just get what we need. It shouldn't take long at all, so don't worry," he smiled. "Now, go and get some rest. I'll wake you, when it's time for us to go."

Christine nodded and entered her tent. Raoul watched her go, thinking how hard the trip, across the desert, must have been on her. _"Tomorrow,"_ he thought to himself, _"I will find my wife and the three of us can all get out of here."_

He walked over to his tent and crept inside. He took his boots off and laid down, the sound of the desert winds and his own weariness lulled him into a deep sleep, almost immediately.

* * *

Ranier ordered a drink, idly passing the night by thinking of ways to kill the various patrons at the bar. He'd been ordered to stay and keep an eye out for Raoul, _"That bastard, de Chagny!"_ while Sebastien and the others went ahead. It was testing his patience, simply waiting. _"No matter,"_ he thought, as he took the last swig of ale, emptying his glass, _"they couldn't possibly trust a job, such as this, to that simpleton, Guifford."_

"Here you go," the portly barkeep said, handing over a dirty glass, filled with some local spirit.

Ranier looked at it in disgust and flipped a coin at the man. Picking up the glass, he stared at it a moment before resigning himself to drink it.

"Ain't ya gonna drink it?" A gruff voice asked, to his right. Ranier turned his head, seeing the dirty looking laborer was addressing him.

Ranier scowled, "I'm thinking about it."

The other man gave him a toothless grin and sidled up closer. "If ya decide not to, I'll take it off yer hands."

"Get away from me." Ranier warned the man.

"Aww, c'mon yer lordship. How about ya buy me a drink then?" The scruffy man asked, hopefully.

Ranier's left hand fondled the hilt of his stiletto, as the other man's distinctively foul odor was now, ever present, before him. He looked the man in the eye and deliberately drained his glass. "No." He signaled the barkeep for another, watching the pudgy man hurry to comply.

The laborer put his hand on Ranier's shoulder, roughly. "Bah! Ya gonna get me one too or not? I think ya should, _friend_," he threatened, his breath wafting over Ranier's senses.

"I think," Ranier gripped his stiletto, firmly, "not." He whipped his blade out and in one fluid motion, he stabbed the laborer. The blade slipped through the man's heavy jacket effortlessly, piercing his skin. His eyes grew wide, as Ranier drove it upward, under his ribcage, the tip finding his heart. He was dead in an instant and Ranier led him into the chair across from his, before he could fall. He propped the man's head on the table and then sat back down at his chair.

The barkeep walked over with his drink. "Did you want one for your new friend also?" He asked, nodding his head over at the other man.

Ranier held his glass up to the light, looking at the man's distorted view through the liquid. With a sinister grin, he replied, "No. I believe he's had enough for tonight."

**

* * *

**

Meg sat in front of Guifford, as he held both the reins and her securely, traveling along the secluded route to Faraj's bath house. She sighed heavily, wishing she was in Paris, back in the comforts of her home and husband. She looked over at Sebastian; the devious man appeared to be lost in thought. For a brief moment, she thought about attempting some sort of escape, but the thought of being alone and defenseless, in a strange land, terrified her more than her questionable company. Clearing her throat, she asked, "I'd like some water, s'il vous plaît?"

Guifford reached to his left and unstrapped a canteen from the horse and then handed it to her.

"Yes, please drink up, my lady. Our trip is almost at an end, but you'll still need to keep up your strength for when we reach our destination," Sebastian grinned.

She took a long drink and then handed it back to Guifford, "Merci."

Guifford took the canteen from her hands and then secured it back in place. "You're welcome," his voice rumbled, from behind her.

Sebastian watched them and laughed. "Guifford, you're the sorriest man alive! I pay you to be my muscle in these operations, but you're softer than the woman we're escorting."

"Just being nice, boss," Guifford said, slightly embarrassed.

Sebastian moved his horse closer to them. "Just remember, there may well come a time where being '_nice,_' to le Comtesse, is no longer an option. You would do well to remember that, you big ape! Now, let's hurry. It's not much farther."

Guifford nodded at the implied threat. Meg could feel him tense up in anger behind her, as they rode on. When Sebastian appeared to be well ahead of them, she dared to whisper, "You should not let him speak to you like that. I do, however, thank you for treating me with kindness."

Guifford thought about replying, but remained silent, not wanting to draw any more unwarranted attention from Sebastien.

* * *

In the morning, Christine and Raoul packed up their gear and made their way into town. They stopped and delivered their camels to their owners as promised, taking a few minutes to explain why they came on time and the rest of the caravan had not. The drovers seemed to understand his explanation, several of them making obscure gestures meant to ward off evil. Raoul asked for directions to Shamira's Eye, where they would finally find his wife and her captors. One of the younger tribesmen knew exactly of what he spoke and where it was to be found. 

After going over the directions, a series of different alleyways, Raoul thanked the young man and then asked further, where he might be able to acquire a couple of horses.

"We have some, there," he pointed out toward an enclosing in the distance, "for when we need to travel into town."

"Who do I need to speak with, in order to make a purchase?" Raoul requested.

"I take care of them," the young man said proudly, "but they are not for sale."

Money didn't seem to be much of a factor, out in the Dark Continent. Raoul had always been able to purchase whatever he desired. _"Yet these people live so simply, it makes me feel like I'm the poor man."_ "Would you be willing to escort us as far as the city, then?"

"That, my friend, can be arranged," he said with a smile. "Come," he waved his hand, gesturing for them to follow him.

* * *

Reaching the city, Raoul and Christine thanked the tribesman and then continued on foot, down the crowded streets. They had gone several blocks, before coming to the bar. It was exactly as the young man had described, worn down and practically in ruins. It was a wonder that it was still operational. It took a few moments for their eyes to adjust to the darkened interior, as they entered from the brightness of outside. 

"I see you've taken on a mistress," Ranier laughed and called out to them. "Should I be expecting any more _guests_?"

Raoul's eyes narrowed, in contempt. "My company is _my_ business. Now, I've kept my word. Let me see Meg."

"In due time. We have to take a little _trip_ first," Ranier explained, taking a sip of his drink.

Barely able to contain the anger in his voice, Raoul managed to reply, "Let's get on with it then!"

Ranier lowered his drinking glass and eyed Raoul, with distaste. "You had better watch your tone with me, Comte. I'm the _only _one who knows where she is. Attempting to find her, alone, would prove to be an impossibility.

"What's to keep me from beating her whereabouts out of you right now?" Raoul roared, closing the distance between him and Ranier.

Ranier remained, coolly, in place. "Because if I'm _not_ where we're supposed to be, then your precious wife dies. Simple as that. You can _even_ keep your weapons. I have no fear at all, that you will harm me, as long as I hold all the cards."

Christine kept a hold of Raoul, as he started to move to strike Ranier. "Please, listen to him, Raoul. Let's just follow him to Meg and we can get this whole nightmare over with."

Raoul nodded in compliance, never taking his furious eyes off of Ranier.

Ranier laughed and finished his drink. "Now, let us be off. I've got a couple of horses waiting. You two will have to share, of course, but I _suspect_ that le Comte has probably shared _more_ than just a horse with you, eh my dear?" He gave Christine a knowing wink.

"You're a depraved bastard!" She said defiantly, disgusted at his insinuation.

"You have _no_ idea," Ranier said, in a perverse whisper. He began to laugh, gesturing for them to follow him outside. "Let's go."

* * *

It had been a long day for Erik, his disappointment evident in his ever increasing temper. The problem wasn't lack of information, just the opposite. The people he and Nadir had questioned were easily coerced into sharing their knowledge with the two, yet there were dozens of places where a missing woman might easily wind up as a servant or slave. Erik had spent most of the day checking the locations, from a distance, while hoping to catch a glance of anyone that might fit Alhena's description. From his mother's recollection and the last portrait of her, before her abduction, he would have to rely mostly on his instincts. 

As the sun began to set, Erik returned to the rented room he shared with Nadir, who had been out making more contacts of his own. _"Hopefully, he's got better news." _Entering the room, he viewed the Persian, sitting comfortably with his feet propped on top of the table.

"This city and the people here are a scourge on the earth," Erik said, tossing his shemagh on his bed. "If I hear one more person pester me to buy something, I'll probably kill them." Erik opened up a bottle of spirits that he had procured during the day, taking a long, welcoming swig.

Nadir grinned, "Well, today was not a total loss, old boy. I made contact with a man who may lead us in the right direction."

"Oh?" Erik asked, taking another long drink.

"I spent a couple hours in a brothel," Nadir replied.

Hearing that, Erik immediately spat out a mouthful of liquid, in stunned surprise. "You _do_ look a bit more _relaxed_ than normal," he said, wiping at the spilled drink on his clothes.

Nadir smirked. "No, no, I _simply_ kept my eyes and ears open. More importantly, I asked the right questions."

"Go on," Erik said, intrigue, offering Nadir his bottle.

Nadir took a drink and then handed it back to Erik. "Despite the many brothels, alehouses, and bath houses, that this city provides, I learned that it is all controlled by just one man."

"So we find him," Erik said, before taking another drink, "and question him."

Shaking his head, Nadir continued. "I didn't get that far. I _did_, however, set up a meeting with a man who offered to give us a name _and_ location of this mystery crime lord. But it is not until tomorrow."

Scowling, Erik asked, "Why not simply follow up on it immediately?"

"You're the one with the money, old boy," Nadir laughed. "Though, I warn you, this information is going to cost you _quite_ a bit."

"If this man provides us with what we want to know, then, fine." Erik pulled his sword free from its scabbard, considering its edge.

"And if he doesn't?" Nadir dared to ask.

"Then I'll take my moneys worth of revenge on the man, when I find him," Erik said, simply, watching the setting sunlight reflecting and dancing along his blade

* * *

The deep thud of the iron knocker, took Faraj's concentration from his companion. _"That must mean Sebastien has arrived. I specifically told the guard not to disturb me otherwise."_ He donned a robe and made his way to the bedroom door. 

"Master," the guard bowed, "your guests await your presence, below."

Making his way down the hall, Faraj spotted his guests, accompanied by two more guards, at the bottom of the staircase. "Ah, I see my guests have arrived!" He exclaimed, happily. His large legs took him down the stairs several at a time as he moved to greet them.

"Faraj," Sebastian said, bowing his head to the bigger man, "you look well."

Smiling in acknowledgement, Faraj replied, "And why wouldn't I? Today is a good day. My dear friend has returned and brought me a present too, no less!" He leaned down, close to Meg, and smiled.

Meg shrunk back, in horror, from the dark-skinned giant. Guifford stood behind her, holding her arms, so she wouldn't run away, as Faraj looked her up and down with a leer.

"Faraj? I'd like to introduce you to le Comtesse Megan de Chagny," Sebastien said, grandly.

Tracing a hand from her cheek and down along her neck, Faraj lifted her chin so she would have to meet his eyes. "Oh, the _pleasure_ is all mine."

Meg struggled in Guifford's grasp, suddenly more afraid than she'd been during her entire ordeal. _"This man's presence radiates pure evil." _She said a silent prayer, as Faraj's hands continued to explore her body. Within his eyes, she sensed something cruel and macabre. She shut her eyes, wishing not to be a part of it.

"Are these our guests, master?" A new voice called, from the top of the stairs, interrupting Faraj's attention on Meg.

He straightened his back, reaching his full height, and turned. "Alhena, come down from there and meet my friends," He said, motioning her forward.

Her long dress hugged her curves, seductively, as the raven-haired beauty descended the stairs. Sebastien's eyes were wide, as he watched her movements. Even Meg was stunned by how striking she appeared. Finally, Alhena stood before them. "Shall I take care of the woman now?"

Faraj paused, thinking it over, before nodding. Guifford released Meg, who looked back at him with uncertainty, before walking over to Alhena.

"Gentlemen, we have much to discuss. Please, come with me," Faraj gestured in the direction of his study.

"Come," Alhena said, leading Meg down a hallway. The walls were covered with ornate paintings and lamps, lighting the way down the tiled corridor. Meg couldn't help but notice the scars upon Alhena's exposed back and the faint discoloration of old bruises, as they continued down the hall.

They reached a room at the end, with a heavy oak door, affixed with an elaborate latch. Opening the door, Alhena escorted Meg inside and directed her to the corner of the room. "This is where you'll be sleeping." Alhena said, showing the bed she had prepared for her. "You are to respect my things. I've seen to it that you have everything you could possibly need, without having to go through my belongings. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, but…"

"No buts. In _case_ you didn't notice, I just saved you back there. Faraj may intend to keep you in one piece for his plans, but that doesn't mean he'll leave you _untouched." _Alhena's emerald eyes showed just how well she knew of what she spoke.

"I understand and I am truly thankful for your help, but..."

"What is it?" Alhena asked, in irritation.

Meg spoke quietly, "Why do you let him hurt you? Why not flee from this place?

"I am not a prisoner here. This is my home. I have no other."

Meg was shocked. "Well it's a terrible way to live and these men are dishonest brutes!"

Giving Meg a sidelong glance, Alhena said wryly, "Why is it that _you_ are here then? You obviously have some _dealings_ with them?"

"I'm _not_ here by choice. Unlike you, I _am_ a prisoner!" Meg declared. "I expect my husband to come for me, any day now."

"That doesn't surprise me," Alhena said, arranging some items on a nearby shelf.

Meg wrinkled her nose, "That I'm married?"

"No, that you are here, _not _of your free will, as well as expecting someone to come for you in return." Alhena stepped onto the balcony and stared at the new moon. "There was once a time, long ago, that I had a place to call my own, a mother who, I thought, loved me," she sighed, "I was brought here unwilling, but I have learned to make do with my new surroundings." She turned to look at Meg, her hair blowing in the soft breeze. "If your husband never comes for you, I _suggest_ you do the same."

"But he will!" Meg insisted.

"I had thought that a rescue would be possible once myself. Even in the process of watching my closest friend jump from this very balcony, I dared not to give up hope." Alhena moved inside and approached Meg. "But you see, I finally had come to the realization that no one was coming for me and that, perhaps, this was all for the better. I've learned the truth about where my mother's true loyalties lie, where I am concerned."

"You cannot believe a life, such as this, is all you'll ever have." Meg was taken aback by the very idea that this woman had actually chose to resign herself to this life.

"But it is so. Even _if_ I leave, there's nothing for me out there," Alhena's eyes were distant, as she continued. "No family that wants me, nor friends beyond these walls. No decent man would have me. At least, Faraj takes care of me."

"Well he has a funny way of showing it," Meg muttered, as she seated herself upon the bed.

"It was much worse before, but I've learned to manage." Alhena walked over to her bed and slipped between the covers. "I suggest you get some sleep. We'll have work to do in the morning."

"Work?" Meg questioned, unsure of what Alhena meant.

"Just because you're a guest, does not mean you are physically unable to serve. Faraj will see to that."

* * *

The sun had set, as Raoul and Christine entered Bornu. They had followed Ranier, in silence, despite his barbed attempts to bait them or anger them further. As their horses bore them down a central street, Ranier finally paused outside a well-lit inn. 

"You two are to wait here," he pointed at the doors, "until further notice."

Raoul stared at the man with open hatred. "I have no time for your games. I want to see my wife, now!"

Ranier smirked. "And you will, Comte, just not tonight. You will receive word in the morning, so I suggest you both get some sleep."

Sliding off the horse he shared, Raoul held out a hand to Christine, helping her down.

"Always the gentleman, I see, Comte. I hope you can keep those good manners in the near future." Ranier chuckled, as he rode off. He headed toward Kukawa, as Sebastien had instructed.

Seeing the disappointment on Raoul's face, Christine hugged him close. "We will see her soon, Raoul."

"I know, Lotte. I just hate feeling so helpless. It took every ounce of control not to simply shoot that arrogant son of a…," he paused, not wanting to subject Christine to his indecency, and then continued, "but I keep thinking of Meg and hoping she is staying strong." Breaking the embrace, he held the door open for her and led her inside.

* * *

The rays of the morning sun shone directly into their rooms, waking Raoul. He dressed quickly and hurried downstairs to see if there was a message from Meg's captors. The innkeeper handed him a folded note, which he quickly opened, reading the flowing script. 

_Welcome to Bornu, Comte. My associates and I are thrilled at your arrival. We look forward to the pleasure of your company this evening for dinner. Please try and look presentable, if you can. I will send someone to bring you to us tonight. Until then, I wish you a beautiful day._

_-Sebastien L._

_P.S. Your pretty wife says hello. Does she know about your lovely traveling partner? I bet she doesn't…_

Raoul crumpled the note, infuriated. He stormed the stairs, making his way back up to his room. He fell into a chair and began to weep uncontrollably.

The sound of his door slamming woke Christine up from her fitful sleep. She'd been dreaming of Meg and their youth at the Opera Populaire. It had become more of a nightmare at the end, as she had visions of Meg being assaulted by men with unseen faces. Truly, she was glad to be awake. She stood up and went to the washbasin to splash some water on her face. Drying herself, she took a moment to look at herself in the mirror. Her clothes were indeed in dire need of repair or replacement. They were much too tight around her chest and midsection. _"No doubt, the heat of the desert sun caused this to shrink." _She sighed.

She left her room and opened the door to Raoul's, slowly. It was evident he'd been crying, but now he sat at the edge of his bed, cleaning his weapons. "Has there been any news, Raoul?"

"Yes," he replied, not looking up. "We are to wait until another contact is made this evening and then we are to meet up for _dinner_," he spat the last word out, in disgust.

"I see," Christine said, unsure of how to continue.

Raoul forced a smile, "At least we have time to do a little shopping now."

"If you wish," she said, hesitantly.

"I do. Let's go see what we can find." Raoul said, standing up and putting his weapons back on.

They left the inn and headed for the central marketplace, which was just a brisk walk away.

The market square was bustling with patrons. It seemed as if it were later in the day than it actually was. Compared to the Paris shopping district, it was nowhere near as crowded, during these hours of the morning. It was a shopper's dream, for whatever you could possibly fancy. Everything from carpets to camels or shoes to books and veils, you name it, they had it or they would find a means to procure it for you. Christine immersed herself in the sights, smells, and sounds of the merchant life, in all its chaos and glory. Hawkers jumped at the chance to grab Raoul and Christine's attention. Shopkeepers peddled their gold and silver and others haggled prices for their textiles, perfume, and spices. Rich with ornaments and weaves, the colorful materials of the canvas covered streets leapt before her eyes. Everywhere she looked became blurred visions at the speed of light. It was so overwhelming that it caused her to stop suddenly, hoping the odd sensation would pass.

"Christine? Are you alright?" Raoul asked, worried.

She nodded, holding her hands up to her face. "I just needed to take a quick breath."

"You look a bit peaked," he noted.

"I'm fine, really. I can take care of myself, Raoul. You needn't worry so much about me." She placed a hand to his shoulder, to steady herself. She began to feel herself losing the battle to keep herself standing.

Raoul wrapped his arms around her, trying to comfort her, and then everything around her went black. "Christine!" He cried, as he felt her go limp in his arms. He swept her up, cradling her into his arms, and carried her through the crowd in the opposite direction. "Hang on, Lotte," he said aloud, as he looked down at her pale complexion. _"I know we passed a hospital before reaching the market square. It shouldn't be far."_

* * *

Erik and Nadir readied themselves, to meet their contact in the marketplace. They belted on their weapons in grim silence, and then swiftly exited the room. Once on the street, they made their way towards the center of town, weaving down various alleyways to avoid the throngs of people that cluttered the main streets. 

Erik stopped suddenly, at the end of an alley that opened up into marketplace.

"Erik? Why have you stopped?" Nadir asked.

"Shut up, Daroga!" Erik could not believe his eyes. The flow of chestnut curls was unmistakable, causing him to lose his breath. There, amidst the morning crowd of shoppers, was Christine. He rubbed at his eyes in disbelief, hoping who he saw next was just a figment of his imagination. It was not. _"She's with… THAT BOY!"_

Nadir peered over Erik's shoulder, to see what had had him so transfixed. What he saw was the last thing he would have ever expected. "Is _that_ Christine? With…"

"de Chagny!" Erik hissed, the words coming out like a curse.

Nadir was baffled. "What could they _possibly_ be doing all the way out here?"

Erik watched, the blood running hot through his veins, as Raoul suddenly swept Christine up into his arms and began carrying her through the crowd. He whipped his cape around, facing Nadir. "I'll tell you what they're doing here. It's some form of secret love tryst!" He roared, his fury blinding him to what he had seen.

Nadir placed a hand on his shoulder, "Now, Erik, be _reasonable_. He…"

Erik grabbed Nadir's hand, shoving it off of him and cutting him off in the process. "HE, Daroga, must have had this all planned out from the beginning! Somehow, he was able to brainwash her during my absence! He must have showered her with jewelry or enticed her with his _fine_ horses, boxed chocolates, and floral bouquets!" Erik felt his stomach turn, "And now he's manipulated her to his every whim!" He was seething, full of rage.

Nadir tried to reason with him. "Listen to me, Erik. That's insanity! You yourself told me you bore witness to his proposal to Meg. Do you really think…"

"I wouldn't put it past that miserable fop! It would be just like him to do such a thing. I know all _too_ well of his treacherous nature. His engagement to Meg was probably just a ruse to catch me off guard!" Erik fumed, pacing up and down the alleyway. "I should have _known_ he would never give up on Christine!" He stopped and looked across the marketplace again, watching Raoul carrying Christine. Shades of red flooded before his eyes, as he said in a hair-raising tone, "There is but _one_ way to find out for certain."

Erik took off in hot pursuit, stalking them like a ravenous beast eager to slaughter his prey, before Nadir got a chance to say anything. _"I really don't like where this is going."_ He sighed, hurrying to catch up to Erik. _"I just pray he doesn't do anything foolish."_

* * *

**Author's Note**  
Ok, who hates me now for ending it on a cliffhanger? -grins- Oh, c'mon now, you guys have to love that I surprised you all, not only with an early update, but a super long chapter. -smiles- I'm eager to release the next chapter too, so we'll see how it goes on the editing floor. Enjoy! 


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Note**  
Hopefully all of you got a chance to read the last chapter. I tried to surprise everyone with an early update, but the Fan Fiction site decided to act up. I know most of you had trouble reviewing and receiving email notices (those of you that have me on your alert list). Anyway, here's another early submission. I'll keep my fingers crossed, in hopes of the site running smoothly. Also, if you'd like to add a review of the last chapter along with this one, I won't mind. -wink-

**Side Note**  
A portion of this chapter is not separated with the usual "divider." Instead, I have placed "**-XXX-**" to split the instances within the same scene (which is going on at exactly the same time). Since the content switch was small, I didn't want to bother with a bunch of divider lines. This just seemed more visually appealing for me, so hopefully no one becomes confused. I shall use this same format, when needed, in the future, so please keep that in mind. Thanks for your patience. -hugs-

And now, I give you all, Le Fantôme d'Afrique… (Yes, I'm being goofy. -grins-)

**CHAPTER 15**

Nadir kept a close eye on Erik, not wanting to lose sight of the direction he was headed in. With expert precision, Erik's steps were deliberate and well calculated. He was a man on a mission, hell-bent in finding out the truth. They followed Raoul and Christine to what appeared to be a medical facility. Erik couldn't understand why he would bring her to a hospital. He was positive they would end up wherever it was they were staying. _"Caught up in the throws of passion, no less!"_ Erik gritted his teeth, as he peered from window to window. Finally spotting the two, he viewed Raoul placing her onto a hospital bed and a doctor rushing to her side, followed by a nurse. _"She's unconscious? What is going on here?" _He pulled the window open a bit more and carefully stood out of sight, listening.

Nadir approached Erik, trying to catch his breath as he stood behind him. Tapping his shoulder he asked, "Erik, what is…"

"Silence, Daroga!" Erik snapped in a whisper. He held his right ear near the opening of the window, attempting to listen to the conversation inside.

Nadir moved to the other side of the window and did the same both men slightly crouched, with their hands at their knees. They watched the nurse leave Christine's side, taking Raoul by the arm. Together they excited the room, while the doctor did his diagnoses in private. _"This is ridiculous!"_ Erik tried to overhear the doctors mumbling, but he couldn't make out anything from his vantage point. He tried to lean in closer to observe exactly what he was doing to Christine, but pulled back instantly as the nurse returned, ushering Raoul back inside.

The doctor met Raoul at the door and shook his hand, as Raoul motioned for the doctor to join him by the window.

Erik waved his hand frantically at Nadir, "Get behind me or they'll see you!" He said in a muted tone, obviously exasperated.

Nadir ducked beneath the window and stood behind Erik again, his back against the wall, trying to listen as well.

**-XXX-**

Raoul placed his hand on the doctor's back, guiding him over to the window. Keeping his voice low to avoid disturbing Christine, he proceeded to ask, "How is she, doctor? I must know." His concern for her was evident to Dr. Bakari.

"She appears to be suffering from exhaustion, but with a few days of rest, she'll be fine," the doctor explained with a friendly smile.

Raoul sighed in relief, "Thank God. I feared the worse."

"Well, have no fear, son," he said, patting Raoul's shoulder. "Though, I'd suggest you keep a close eye on her over the next few months," the doctor added as he began to scribble some notes on his chart.

"Is her exhaustion that serious?" Raoul questioned.

Still writing, Dr. Bakari shook his head. "Heavens no, her exhaustion will be remedied with just a few days of bed rest, as I've said before. I was referring to her pregnancy."

**-XXX-**

Erik's blood began to rise rapidly, as he overheard the doctor's claim._ "Pregnancy? Impossible! She can't be!"_

Nadir steadied himself on Erik's shoulder, leaning closer to try and get within proper hearing range. _"Did he say pregnancy?"_

**-XXX-**

Raoul wasn't sure if he heard the doctor correctly. In stunned disbelief he tilted his head to the side and asked, "Pardon?"

"You wife is expecting." Dr. Bakari finished his notes and then looked up from his chart. "Did you not _know _this?" He asked, viewing Raoul's baffled expression.

**-XXX-**

"_His WIFE?"_ Erik's ears began to ring, his head felt as if it would burst, as his heart hammered deep within his chest.

"_This can't be good,"_ Nadir thought, as he felt Erik's back stiffen. "Erik, I'm sure…"

Erik raised his left hand, whispering ominously, "Leave me."

"But Erik, we…"

Erik turned his head, slowly. "I said LEAVE ME, Daroga! Go and meet our man. I will handle this matter _personally_."

Nadir paused, with more questions ready to come forth.

"I will _not_ ask again," Erik stressed threateningly, "Now, GO!"

The Persian nodded his head and fled back to the marketplace, toward the direction of their contact.

**-XXX-**

"She's pregnant?" Raoul couldn't believe it. _"It must be a mistake. The doctor in Paris would have caught something like this when she went in for her exam."_

"Yes, dear boy, she is," Dr. Bakari smiled. "Congratulations to you and your beautiful wife! I'm sure your child will be blessed with both of your striking features," he winked.

**-XXX-**

Erik brought a shaky hand to the right side of his face. _"Christine has no idea I was not born this way. That boy must have told her of the possibilities of bearing children with my defect, using it to his advantage. Now she is carrying his child. He has taken what was rightfully mine! Yet, I will not lick my wounds and take this like a defeated dog. I shall have my revenge!" _He stormed away from the window, positioning himself between the building and within eyeshot of the main doors of the hospital.

**-XXX-**

Raoul's face began to flush. He hadn't had the chance to tell the doctor about his relationship with Christine. He was too busy worrying about her immediate care to mention they were just friends. Speaking up, he tried to explain, "Oh, she's n…" he stuttered, still surprised by the news, "I mean to say, I'm n…"

"Dear me," the doctor interrupted him, noticing the time as he held his pocket watch, "I'm sorry. I must be going. I have a full schedule ahead of me yet." The doctor bowed, quickly making his way to the door and exiting the room. "I'll leave instructions with the nurse at the desk," he echoed from the hall, "Good day, sir!"

Christine opened her eyes, hearing the doctor call out to Raoul. "What the…" she paused, looking around her new surroundings and spotted Raoul by the window, "Where are we, Raoul?

"You don't remember? You fainted in the middle of the market square, Lotte. I carried you here, to this hospital."

Christine rubbed at her temples, "I barely remember leaving your room."

"Why didn't you tell me you weren't feeling well, Christine? For that matter, why did you not tell me you were pregnant? I assume the doctor in Paris told you, but you decided to keep the news to yourself, in order to accompany me to Africa," he accused.

"_He didn't say what I think he just said, did he?"_ She furrowed her brow, looking over at him, shocked. "What are you saying, Raoul?"

"Christine, you don't have to pretend with me any longer. Dr. Bakari told me you are expecting." He looked out of the open window, leaning against the window sill, and sighed. "Why on earth did you not trust me enough to tell me?"

"_Pregnant?_" Her mind raced at the implications. _"Of course, it all makes sense now. How I've been feeling, the dizziness, the fatigue, the hunger. I'm going to have… a baby…Erik's baby!"_ Slowly, the room began to spin before her. The excitement and the anxiety of becoming a mother came rushing to her all at once. "I'm… I'm…" She faded back into the darkness, a contented smile upon her face.

"Christine?" Raoul asked, as he glanced over at her. Removing himself from the window, he walked over to the bed. _"Hmm, she's unconscious again. No doubt, it's the effects of her exhaustion." _He secured the covers around her and kissed her forehead._ "I'll go purchase some new garments for her, while she's resting."_ He looked down at himself and added,_ "For myself, as well."_ He made his way out of the room, carefully closely the door behind him.

Reaching the nurse's desk, he explained he would be out in the marketplace and that he would be back in an hour. "Should she wake and ask for me, please let her know I won't be long." He smiled, bowing to the desk nurse, and then turned on his heels, heading back outside.

* * *

Raoul exited the hospital, his head swimming with the news. _"Christine's pregnant?" _He shook his head in amazement, smiling._ "Her husband will be pleased. Perhaps, once he hears the news, he will forgive me for bringing her along to rescue Meg." _Pausing in the doorway a moment, he tried to remember the way back to the market square. In the rush to get to the hospital, he'd forgotten all the twists and turns he'd taken from the location where Christine had fainted. Making a decision, he walked down the stairs, toward what he assumed was the right direction. After taking a few short steps, a pair of hands grabbed him roughly, throwing him bodily against the far wall. 

"What the..." Raoul managed, caught completely off guard, as he fumbled for his weapons. His eyes widened, as he recognized his assailant. "Erik? Is that y…" His question was cut off, as Erik's hand shot up, clasping around his throat.

"Now is not the time to speak, Comte! Now is simply the time to _DIE_!" Erik hissed the words, tossing Raoul aside and whipping his saber out of its sheath.

Raoul backpedaled, trying to get some room between him and the vision of anger before him. Erik stalked him, wishing only to gain satisfaction by gutting the man who had taken his precious Christine from him. "Erik, please, let me explain. We didn't know…"

With a lunge, Erik thrust his sword at Raoul's midsection. Only a scant inch separated the steel from his stomach. Raoul managed to get his own sword out, in the process of retreating.

"I… don't want to hurt you, Erik," Raoul said, trying to sound braver than he felt, as he looked into the crazed eyes of his opponent.

"This false bravado of yours will not dissuade me, de Chagny!" Erik continued his forward motion. His saber whipped to and fro, causing a whistle in the wind, as Raoul retreated steadily. "Insolent _boy_! You have _no_ idea who you've crossed. The torture under the Opera Populaire will seem as mere child's play, compared to the _pain_ I shall inflict upon you now!"

"Listen to me!" Raoul countered, trying to get him to understand reason. "Whatever you may think, Christine is here for one reason only!"

"A _honeymoon_! Yes, I see that!" Erik interrupted, his sword weaving back and forth, as he and Raoul circled each other in the ally behind the hospital. He swung once, high at Raoul's head. Raoul managed to dodge, but could see the urge to kill rising within Erik's eyes. He countered with a deft lunge, which was easily defeated, as their circling continued.

"No! You have to understand. Meg is…"

Erik slashed hard to the left, causing Raoul to dodge right. "You _bastard_! Don't even _mention _her name. I'm sure she's waiting for you at home, while you and Christine _frolic_ around the Dark Continent celebrating the impending _birth _of your _spawn_!" His sword flashed left, then right, both times being barely defeated by Raoul's own saber.

Knowing that Erik's rage would never allow him to listen to his words, Raoul decided that force would be the only way for him to be heard. "Fine, then! If you will _not_ listen to me, then perhaps I shall just _beat_ the truth into you!"

With a sinister smile, Erik waved Raoul on in a 'come hither' gesture, and the battle was joined in earnest.

Raoul cried out and lunged at Erik, in an attempt to disable the man. He fought not to kill, but to incapacitate him so he'd be forced to submit to reason.

Erik deftly sidestepped the lunge, his own sword flicking out at Raoul, who managed a quick dodge to avoid it. A sudden step and a mighty swing brought Raoul up close to his opponent, as their swords crossed. They looked into each others eyes; Raoul's pleading, Erik's seething.

With a forceful shove, Erik caused Raoul to stumble backwards, over a wooden crate. His sword flew out of his grasp, as he landed hard upon his back. As Erik approached, Raoul reached for the nearest object, closing his hand around it. He hurled it at Erik, hoping to momentarily slow his advance.

Watching the empty bottle fly over his shoulder, Erik continued on. "Your skills are _sloppy_ and _boorish_. I had expected more from you, since our last encounter in the cemetery, _de Chagny_," Erik spat out, as he advanced on the scrambling form of his opponent.

Raoul managed to retrieve his sword, getting back onto his feet in the process. Erik slashed low, causing Raoul to jump. The predictable counter to his head was defeated, as Erik raised his saber high, in time to block the attack.

Raoul leapt backwards and snapped into the 'en garde' position, waiting for Erik to make a move.

Erik quick-stepped forward, his sword flashing back and forth, Raoul countering every attempt, seeking any opening he could find. Sensing an opportunity, he lunged forward quickly, only to have his attack defeated by Erik's swirling cape, catching his blade and turning it to the side. A searing pain stung at Raoul's left upper arm, telling him he'd overextended himself poorly. Drawing back, he glanced down at the wound; the blood flowed freely beneath his torn shirt.

Smiling broadly, Erik said, "First blood is mine yet _again_, Comte. Last blood will be mine _too_!" He lunged at full extension, intending to skewer the man before him. Raoul managed a quick sidestep, slashing down hard on Erik's forearm, drawing a line of blood across it.

"Are you ready to listen _now_, Erik?" Raoul asked, his sword weaving between their bodies, as Erik backed off to inspect his wound.

Erik sneered, "To your _lies_? I think _not_!" Erik came on furiously, his sword darting up, down, and across, as Raoul used every ounce of his training to defeat the attacks. He ducked a slash, and rose up, his sword flying at Erik's face, bringing them eye to eye, yet again.

"Christine and I came to..." Raoul managed to say, before being caught with a flying fist from Erik's left hand. Staggering back, Raoul brought his hand to his lip, seeing the blood upon his fingertips.

"Enough of your _words_, de Chagny!" Erik snarled, advancing once more on his bloodied foe. "You seek _only_ to delay the inevitable by _lying_ to me!" His sword flickered high and low, as Raoul sought to defend himself. "I _know_ the truth!" He roared, while his sword danced in intricate patterns, passing Raoul's defenses, and scoring a wicked hit to Raoul's upper thigh.

Raoul limped back and thrust forward hard, the tip of his sword darting into Erik's right shoulder. Blood seeped between Erik's fingers, as he pressed firmly against his wound, retreating a step.

With this momentary pause, Raoul managed to draw his pistol from his belt and level it at his assailant. "Enough, Erik! Now you _have_ to hear me out!" He warned.

With an arrogant grin, Erik stared at him, and then turned his attention beyond him, as if looking over Raoul's shoulder. "Take him out, Nadir!"

Raoul snapped his head quickly to glance behind him. No one was there.

In that brief moment, Erik rushed him. Kicking high, his boot connected solidly with Raoul's wrist, causing the pistol to sail off behind them. "Nice try, Comte, but you should know better than to _trust_ a Phantom!" Erik sneered with perverse amusement.

Raoul stepped back, trying to think of a way to get the man before him to relent. "Please, Erik, for Christine's sake, _don't_ do this!"

Infuriated, Erik strode forward, his eyes radiating pure murderous rage behind his mask. "That will be the last time you _ever_ speak her name! Now, make your _peace _with the Almighty and say _goodbye_ to your unborn child!" He scowled.

"The baby she carries is _YOURS_, you maniac!" Raoul yelled, his left hand clamping down on the wound to his leg. He limped backwards, taking up his sword once more. He tried to keep it raised in defense, but the blood was coming faster now, making it difficult for him to remain focused.

"LIAR!" Erik shouted, moving forward with his blade flashing.

Raoul ducked and dodged, to avoid the strikes, the wounds and his weariness beginning to take their toll on him. He lashed out at Erik's legs hoping to take him off his feet. Although his attack was spoiled, he managed to gain a few yards between Erik and himself.

"Christine and I are here for Meg, you bloody _fool_!" Raoul argued, attempting to stand up straight, despite the pain in his leg. With determination in his eyes, Raoul leveled his sword at Erik, and stood his ground.

Erik paused, lowered his sword slightly. He allowed himself to think on Raoul's words. "_Could it be?" _ He thought. The voice of reason waged a war against his bloodlust.

With his defenses lowered, Raoul seized the opportunity. Leaping ahead, he pushed Erik's blade aside with his own and launched out with his fist, landing an unexpected punch to Erik's left eye. Raoul brought the tip of his saber to Erik's throat, as he staggered back from the impact. "It's _over_, Erik!" He breathed heavily. "_Listen_ to me or I will have no choice, _but_ to end your life."

At his neck, Erik felt the top layer of skin begin to break under the pressure of Raoul's sword. "Enough, Comte," he said, his voice calm and steady. "I will listen to what you have to say." He eased his sword back into its sheath and then held his hands up in good faith.

Raoul took a moment to regain his composure, before sheathing his own sword cautiously. "It's all true. Meg was kidnapped and Christine refused to be left behind, _despite_ my protests. You _know_ how stubborn she can be. You _must_ believe me."

"Go on," he said softly, bringing his hand up to assess the damage of his swelling eye.

Facing Erik, Raoul said, "It was only today that Christine's health became an issue. I had no idea what the doctor would say. I _assume_ you heard that conversation."

"I did," Erik said, closing the distance between him and Raoul. "And _I_ say when it's over." Without warning, his knee flashed up, driving with brutal force between Raoul's legs. As Raoul collapsed, writhing in pain and clutching himself, Erik continued, "While I _understand _your words, I do not _forgive_ you for bringing her to this hell hole." Erik smiled in satisfaction, as he looked down to a curled up Raoul. "_Now_, it's over."

"Is everything alright, old boy?" Nadir's voice called out, from the far end of the alley.

"Perfectly alright, Daroga," Erik replied, holding his hand out to Raoul, who hesitated a moment before taking it.

"Have your wounds tended to, while I transfer Christine to my room a few blocks from here," Erik said, as he pulled Raoul to his feet. "Where were you two staying?

"The Tiger's Den," Raoul coughed.

"You _allowed_ Christine to _stay_ in that hovel?" Erik asked, incredulously.

"Believe me, it's _not_ by choice. We were told to stay there in order to receive correspondence from Meg's captors."

"Well, give me her room key so I can retrieve her belongings." Erik held out his hand, waiting for Raoul to produce the key.

Waving him off, Raoul pointed out, "She has no belongings. I was going to the market square to get her some new garments and whatever else she could use when _you_ attacked me. Neither of us had time to pack. We merely acquired what we needed on the way here."

"We'll _discuss_ this later, de Chagny." Erik forewarned, disturbed by his account.

Nadir shook his head, viewing the damage both men inflicted upon one another. "Shall I shoot you both and put you out of your miseries?" He chuckled.

Turning to Nadir, he addressed him. "Now is not the time for your morbid humor, Daroga. Help le Comte inside and see to it that he is cared for." Erik tossed his coin purse at him and then flicked his cape at Raoul, as he rushed down the alley toward the front doors of the hospital.

* * *

It wasn't difficult having Christine discharged into Erik's care. Raoul explained the entire situation to Dr. Bakari and vouched that Erik was indeed the expectant father and rightful husband of Christine. Once the release forms were signed, Erik whisked his angel away to the safety of his room at The Crystal Orchid; a well-respected establishment, unlike that of The Tiger's Den. 

Erik had managed the transition smoothly, placing her within the comforts of his bed. Christine had woke but once during the journey. She had looked into his eyes and smiled at him, as he carried her across several blocks. As he was about to speak, she closed her eyes, succumbing to the darkness once more.

With her resting, he decided to take the opportunity to attend to his wounds. He grabbed the half-empty bottle of liquor from the table. Taking a swig, he walked into the bathroom. He lit a few candles before removing his shirt. The cut to his forearm was not nearly as deep as he had guessed, but the wound to his shoulder would require more care. Taking a longer drink, he placed the bottle down and reached for a clean towel. Filling the wash basin with hot water, he submerged the cloth into it and rang it out. Cleaning the area as best he could, he prepared himself for the next step. Finishing off the liquor, he removed the dagger at his side and ran the blade under the candle's flame. As the metal began to color, he removed it and braced himself against the coolness of the wall. He brought the dagger to his shoulder, placing it flat against the opening, to seal the wound. The smell of burnt skin and the pain that accompanied it was excruciating. He cursed Raoul in several different tongues until finally removing the blade. _"Another scar to add to the many that already riddle my body,"_ he smirked. He bandaged his forearm and then stood before the small mirror, inspecting the tiny cut at his neck and the mark, in the form of a half moon, underneath his left eye. _"The swelling has gone down, but this bruise is going to be with me for weeks!"_ He grumbled. "Damn you, de Chagny!" He said aloud, forgetting Christine was resting in the next room. Suddenly he heard her rustling beneath the bed covers. Without thought, he placed his soiled shirt back on and stepped out of the bathroom.

He viewed her form from a distance, checking to see if she was awake.

"I'm dreaming," Christine whispered, her eyes opening and closing slowly, trying to make peace with her new surroundings.

It had been too long since he had heard her last; the voice of an angel with the power to keep him spellbound completely. He stepped forward, slowly being pulled by her presence. "No, you are not, mon ange."

"Erik? Is that really you?" She asked, her heart fluttering in her chest despite her mind's refusal to accept the evidence before her eyes.

"Oui," he smiled.

"Erik, I…" She paused, noticing the many bloodstains on his clothes, as he got closer to her. "Mon dieu!" She sat up in a panic. "You are hurt! What happened? How did…"

"Christine, I'm fine," he assured her.

"But you're bleeding!"

He shrugged her concern off. "It's merely a flesh wound and it's no longer bleeding. I've taken care of it."

"Who did this? And what are you doing here?" So many frantic questions wanted to come out at once, as Christine bit her lip.

"Did you not _miss_ me, Christine?" He teased, his hand reaching down to caress her face.

"Of course I missed you, Erik! You _know_ what I meant," she said, flustered by his touch.

"There was a _slight_ misunderstanding between me and le Comte, but we were able to settle the matter _amiably_," he said simply.

"You call _this_ amiably?" She voiced in disbelief.

"Well, I did not _kill_ him," he chuckled.

"Erik!" She smacked his hand lightly.

Kneeling beside the bed he continued. "You must understand, mon amour, I was _not _expecting to see you here, especially with _him_. In fact, you should be in Paris."

"But Meg…" she started, before being interrupted.

"I know, Christine. Le Comte has explained it all to me."

"Then… you know…" Christine hesitated, her mind reeling from what she remembered last.

"Oui, I know," he smiled, leaning his head against her side. He brought his hand to her belly, rubbing it lovingly. "Once you've rested, I shall send you back to Paris immediately. This is no place for you, in your condition."

"Erik, you can't!" She exclaimed.

"But it's much too dangerous for you to stay here, especially now," he said sternly. He got to his feet, pacing the floor. "Why did you come? How could you subject yourself to this?"

"Erik, Meg is the closest thing I have to a sister. She practically _is_ my sister and Raoul, he is my best friend. How could I _not _be compelled to do something?" She said firmly. "You would have done the same thing in my position!"

"But by being here, you are not only endangering yourself, but our unborn child as well." Erik chided, though his concern and love was apparent to her.

"I'm more than capable of handling myself," she said stubbornly.

"Like you did in the market square?" Erik smirked. "I was there, Christine. Le Comte even told me of all the episodes you've been having, though he didn't think much of it at the time."

"You can't make me go, Erik. I won't leave! Not without Meg and especially not without you. I have been apart from you long enough!" Tears began to fill her eyes, "Please, mon amour," she pleaded, "don't send me away."

Pausing at the foot of the bed, he looked deep into her eyes. "If I am to allow this, you must promise to stay here, in this room." Seating himself beside her, he brushed at her fallen tears and continued earnestly. "For the sake of yourself and our baby, you _must _promise me this."

Nodding, she whispered softly, "I promise."

He wrapped his arms around her, taking in her warmth against him. "Now, rest awhile, mon ange. We'll talk more, after you've slept."

Erik attempted to get up, but was held back by Christine's hand upon his arm. "Lay with me awhile, Erik, please?"

An unspoken agreement passed between them as he smiled, bending down to remove his boots.

* * *

**Author's Note x2**  
Can you feel it? Feel what, you say? Why the fluff, of course! Yes, my dear devoted readers, Phantom fluffy goodness is on the way! -Cuddly Erik Kisses- Now, make your reviews inspiring, to aid me with the boudoir conquest! -teasing- It's been awhile, but I'm proud of all of you for sticking around. Hopefully it'll be worth the wait. See you all next week! 


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note**  
This chapter is comprised entirely of Erik & Christine fluff, along with slight undertones in the beginning. I just wanted to thank everyone for reviewing the last chapter. It was really nice to hear from some of you for the first time. I'm honored to have such a wonderful group of supporters.

**M Rated Material Warning**  
Just a quick pre-warning, for those sensitive to content of a physical nature: I will be as discreet as possible, but as detailed as necessary. Those that wish to skip this chapter because of its content may do so without missing any of the plotline.

If I haven't deterred you yet and you've gotten this far, let's get on with the fluff…

**CHAPTER 16**

Unable to sleep, Erik reveled in Christine's beauty, as she lay peacefully beside him. The soft light of day cast a heavenly glow against her milky skin and highlighted her golden brown curls in haunting perfection. _"Is it possible to love you even more than I do at this moment?"_ He traced a finger lazily along the curve of her shoulder, running down her arm and then slowly back up again.

_The room was dark, yet in the distance she could make out two faint figures beyond her. From where she stood, she noticed one lay upon the floor. A blinding shimmer of light flashed against a vicious blade held high above the second, who stood over the helpless form of the first. With lightning speed, the blade struck down upon its target. The loud cry of a man critically wounded was proof that the blade had made its mark. The second figure laughed eerily, and then faded into the darkness. Grim silence was all that was left, surrounding the motionless form upon the floor._

_Her heart raced, as her feet unconsciously brought her forward. With every step, the figure became more visible. She came upon dark boots, slightly draped by the bottom of an even darker cape soaked in blood. As her eyes moved upward to view his face, she could see nothing but shadows. Lying near his head was a mask of pure white, radiating against the light which seemed to surround him. She knelt beside him and with a shaky hand she reached for the mask. As she picked it up, she was startled by a hand which grabbed at her wrist suddenly. _

"_Christine…" he gasped. His grip slowly loosened, as death finally came to claim him._

_She turned her head, seeing the shadows move gradually from his face, the face belonging to that of her beloved Angel. In an emotional rush, tears began to fall, as she looked into the light above her_

"_ERIK!" She called out to his spirit, her voice echoing all around her in an earth shattering shriek._

Christine sat upright in a panic, clutching the covers to her chest

"Christine, what is it?" Erik asked, as he placed a hand upon her shoulder. He felt her body trembling beneath his touch.

Christine turned to him, her face utterly distressed. "Oh, Erik!" Her voice broke as she fell upon him, clinging to his body desperately.

"Mon ange, what has happened?" He moved his head, trying to look upon her face.

"Erik, I saw… you were… Oh, _God_, you were…" She stuttered her words, unable to finish.

"I am here, Christine," he assured her, stroking her hair softly. He steadied her in his grasp, as he sat up. "Look at me." He brought his hand to her chin, turning her head, and gazed into her eyes. "It was only a dream."

"It seemed… so real," she whispered, the images too vivid to dismiss. Trying to clear her mind from her visions, she asked, "What time is it?"

Still comforting her within his arms, he answered, "You've only been asleep for an hour. It's barely past noon."

"We must return to The Tiger's Den. Raoul was to be given further instructions regarding Meg," she explained.

"He and Nadir will come to us, once he knows more, and I will take care of the matter. Remember, it is no longer your concern, mon ange. You promised me."

"I know, but I can't help but worry." Thinking back on her dream, something unsettling sprang within her, a sense of dread she could not explain. "Erik, you haven't told me _why_ you are here in Nigeria, but I have a terrible feeling there is danger ahead of you," she gathered the covers around her, "Let's go back to France… right now." She scooted off the bed, attempting to gather what little belongings she possessed.

Getting up from the bed, Erik reached for his cape and wrapped it around his waist. He walked over to her, trying to steady her nerves. "Christine, you must calm down. Think of the baby."

Christine was frantic and not thinking clearly. All she could see was the images of her dream, flashing before her. "I _am_ thinking about the baby _and_ of you. Let us go, far away from this place."

"I cannot do that." He turned away from her, walking over to the window and looking out across the cloudy blue sky. "There is something I must do, before I am to leave this place."

She walked over to him, placing a hand against his back, "And what of your promises to me, Erik?"

"Oh, Christine," he sighed, turning to face her. Looking deeply into her eyes, he said solemnly, "You are the single most important thing I have in my life."

"Then _why_ can we not flee from here?" She whispered, still feeling an unreasoning panic within her.

"Aside from the situation with Meg, which neither of us would leave unresolved regardless, I have made a promise," he hesitated and took a deep breath, "to my mother," he exhaled, allowing that to sink in.

Christine furrowed her brow in utmost confusion. "Your mother? But Erik, your mother is dead and you yourself told me she was a wicked woman. Why in God's name would you be compelled to uphold a promise to her?

He lowered his head. "There is much I haven't told you yet, mon ange." He paused, gathering his thoughts, and then continued. "Madeline was not my real mother."

"What are you saying?" She asked, tilting her face to the side in surprise, "Did you... lie to me?"

He took her hands within his. "Absolutely not. I had believed Madeline was my birth mother, but it was not until I journeyed to Morocco that I had found out the _actual_ truth." Guiding her back over to the bed, he continued, "Please, sit with me and I shall explain further."

Erik recalled everything to Christine; hiring Valente during his time in Italy, venturing forth to Taddert and finding his true mother, Amala, and the unbelievable news of having a twin sister, Alhena.

Christine was in shock hearing the news. "I can't believe it. It sounds all too incredible."

"I can hardly believe it myself, Christine, but it _is_ the truth," he said honestly.

Not wanting to sound selfish, she asked, "Can we not have Nadir handle the situation? Perhaps he can send for Valente and Darius."

"No, Christine. This is something I must attend to personally, but I promise, no harm will befall me." He caressed her cheek lovingly with the back of his hand, "You must know this, mon amour."

"And Meg?" She asked, her concerns still weighing heavy within her mind, "Will you still be able to help Raoul as well?"

He chuckled lightly. "While the thought of helping Le Comte with _anything_ has never been a high priority in my life, I too have feelings for Meg. I will make sure she is brought forth from this place, safe and sound. You have my word."

Breathing a small sigh of relief, she allowed herself to be drawn once more into his embrace, seeking comfort within his arms to alleviate the rest of her worries. "Thank you, mon amour," she whispered, her head resting against his chest.

He placed his hand under her chin, tilting her head to meet him face to face. "I love you, mon ange," he kissed her softly, searching her eyes, "You are all I live for," he brought his right hand to her stomach, "and soon you will give birth to our child, the second greatest gift of my entire existence." Swelling with pride, he kissed her again, running his left hand underneath her hair, to the back of her neck, and pulled her into his kiss. He craved to taste her, to consume her essence and drown himself in her reverence.

Breathing heavily, he broke the kiss, "Oh, Christine, how I've missed you." He held her in his arms, as she wrapped hers around him tightly. He moved his mouth across her left cheek and down her neck, desperately.

"I love you, Erik," she sighed breathlessly. "I've missed you too… dreadfully so." She threw her head back, losing herself to his touch.

He eased her down onto the bed with him, lying carefully on top of her. He ran his hands down her chest, pulling the covers away from her. He worshipped every delicate curve of her body with his eyes, before his lips met hers once more. He kissed her soundly, as Christine clung to him as she'd never done before. Erik pushed against her, the bareness between them stirring his want, as he ached to unleash weeks of pent-up desire. He massaged her breasts, rubbing against her budding tips with his thumbs, teasingly.

"I _must_ have you, Christine," he kissed along her earlobe, moving down her neck, nuzzling frantically, "Do not deny me this," he whispered hypnotically.

She closed her eyes, bending to his will, "I could never deny you," she ran her hands along his back, "Take me, mon amour," she wrapped her left leg around his waist, "I am yours."

Erik slid his tongue anxiously into her mouth meeting hers, as he positioned himself against her. Christine was restless with anticipation, awaiting his entry, as he maneuvered his hips. In his wildest dreams, he never imagined being able to hold her and make love to her so soon. His body and soul however, welcomed the opportunity in an intoxicated rush. He slid inside her slowly, abandoning every thought, wishing only to love her completely. He covered her right breast with his mouth hungrily, gliding his tongue against her stiffened peak in a circular motion.

Christine had dreamt of this moment every night that they were apart and now that he was finally claiming her, she couldn't believe how she had ever lasted so long without him. With every inch he gave her, she delighted in his power. In that moment, all her worries ceased; giving way to reckless abandon.

When he was completely inside her, he looked into her eyes passionately, memorizing her face, as he made love to her deeply. He paced his movements, matching hers flawlessly. With every stroke, she met his, bucking against him, wanting more. They gasped in pleasure, as their bodies met over and over again.

Christine felt a wall inside her begin to crumble, as their actions became even more frenzied. Grasping her shoulders, he sought her deeply, as she pleaded with him for sweet release. He grazed his teeth against her nipple, feeling her tighten around him. Her moans grew louder, exciting him further. "Christine… my darling, Christine…" he groaned urgently, as he felt her legs fasten around his waist much stronger now. She could no longer hold back the tide, as she surrendered to the waves of pleasure that washed over her.

The scent of their love making overwhelmed his senses, as he felt the tension within him rise. His tempo hastened, as he yearned to reach heaven on earth within her body. With a final penetrating thrust, he brought Christine up into his arms, reaching his climactic peak. He growled, breathing unevenly, as he shuddered within her. He held her close, kissing her shoulder and moving up along her neck. Reaching her lips, he kissed her tenderly, easing himself onto the bed and rolling her on top of him. Christine fell forward, her curls falling upon his face, as she grabbed at his shoulders.

Erik winced in pain, "Christine, be gentle."

She brushed her hair away from his face with a questioning look in her eyes.

"My shoulder, mon ange," he looked to his right.

"Oh, forgive me," she removed her hand from his shoulder, and leaned down to kiss it carefully. "Perhaps..." she kissed his neck, "I can..." she kissed his marred cheek, "ease your..." she kissed his lips, "...discomfort, Monsieur." She looked into his eyes, grinning playfully.

"I am at your mercy, Madame. Do with me what you will. I shall remain your most _obedient servant_," he grinned mischievously, gripping her about the waist."

With him still buried inside her, she moved against him matching his amorous gaze, as he submitted to the pleasure she brought upon his body. He assisted her advances, pulling her down with his hands firmly on her waist.

As she rocked against him steadily, his hands worked up her sides again, running over the swell of each full breast once more. His fingers trapped each erect peak, pinching lightly, causing her to gasp. His senses in a haze, his hands continued to roam on their own accord over her body. He savored the warmth of her, surrounding him in a velvety caress.

Christine moaned involuntarily, as she felt the pleasure from so many directions at once. While his hands held her heaving breasts, she felt him move upwards in time with her own downward actions. The sensations were indescribable, as she indulged wantonly in their magical embrace.

Together, their fevered moans intertwined in a rapturous duet, as time stood still within their passion play. Their breathing was rhythmic, as they reached a higher plateau, mentally, emotionally, and physically.

Christine soon fell forward, unable to bear the sensations any longer. Her body shook, as her hands braced upon Erik's chest, succumbing to the onslaught of ecstasy within her. Erik gripped at her backside tightly, coming undone, as the fire within consumed him.

Mutually exhausted, they sighed blissfully within each others arms. Erik traced his fingers languidly along her back, as Christine circled the dark patch of hair upon his chest, quietly humming as she lay upon him.

"Will you sing for me, Christine?" Erik whispered, after a time.

Without hesitation, she began to sing "L'Amour de Moi," a French folk song Madame Giry used to sing to her and Meg when they were younger. Erik knew the song well, for Annette had sung it to him during his first night at the opera house. He had memorized every word and had cherished it always. He smiled in contentment as Christine's angelic voice lulled him to sleep.

* * *

**Disclaimer**  
I am not affiliated, nor do I own the rights to the French traditional song, "L'Amour de Moi." 


	17. Chapter 17

**CHAPTER 17**

After having his wounds cleaned, stitched, and bandaged, Raoul and Nadir made their way to The Tiger's Den, to check on further correspondence from Sebastien. They planned to continue onward, to The Crystal Orchid, and discuss their game plan with Erik, once they had gone over the details within the note.

As they walked along the uneven path, Nadir's mind reeled with all that had to be done._ "Allah, give us strength," _he prayed, hoping they would be able to get through their ever-growing trials.

"We're here," Raoul announced, as he stood before the doors of The Tiger's Den. He turned to Nadir, who seemed lost in thought. "Are you alright?" He asked, placing a hand on Nadir's shoulder.

"My apologies, Comte," Nadir answered, trying to clear his head, "I'm fine." He reached for the door and motioned for Raoul to enter. "After you."

Raoul bowed his head, "Very well."

As they walked into the inn, Raoul headed straight for the front desk, while Nadir paused behind him. His eyes analyzed the people within, trying to discern any immediate danger, while Raoul inquired on any messages he may have received while he was out.

"One moment," the man said, and then stepped away from the desk.

After a few moments, the man returned with a single envelope, holding it out to Raoul. "This is all that has come in."

Raoul reached into his pocket and tossed a few coins onto the desk, before taking the letter. He thanked the man and then turned to Nadir. Trying to keep his hands from trembling and his voice calm, he asked, "Would you like a drink, Monsieur Khan?" He gestured vaguely toward the bar.

"After this morning's affair, I could use one," Nadir admitted sincerely.

"As could I," Raoul patted Nadir's back reassuringly. "Come then. We shall go over _this_," he said in contempt, as he held the envelope up, "while we drink."

While not a strong drinker by nature and by religion, Nadir felt the circumstances warranted it on this occasion. He ordered a couple of drinks, while Raoul seated himself at the first available table he saw. Paying the bartender, he took up both glasses and walked toward the table, noticing Raoul was already engrossed in the contents of the open letter before him.

_**Comte,**_

**_I have looked forward to our forthcoming appointment for quite some time now. Introductions are in order. My name is Faraj Ajani. Your brother and I were dear friends and our partnership had been highly profitable for all involved. With his sudden passing however, I find myself in a most pressing situation and financially this will not do at all. We'll talk more of this when you arrive at my home tonight. _**

**_You are to meet with me at The Jeweled Moon in Kukawa. The proprietor of The Tiger's Den will be able to give you directions. This, after all, was why we chose for you to stay there. Previously, you've dealt with my associates. It's time now, for you to meet with their master._**

**_Your wife should be most pleased to see you. So far she has resisted my advancements, but I am a very persuasive man. If you fail to arrive, you can consider her body and everything I plan to do with it, as payment for your insolence._**

_**-F. Ajani**_

Raoul read the words to himself, yet Nadir could tell by his body language that he was less than thrilled. Sitting across from him, Nadir handed him a glass. "Is everything in order?" He asked cautiously.

Raoul pocketed the letter, trying to remain hopeful in the face of the implied threats. Taking the offered glass, he responded, "I am to meet with some Faraj character at someplace called 'The Jeweled Moon,' tonight."

Nadir leaned forward suddenly, raising his eyebrow at Raoul and asked. "_Faraj_, did you say?"

Raoul considered the glass in his hands. "Yes. Apparently he is the head of this ruffian crew that has taken Meg." Raoul took a long drink, savoring the ale, as it met his mouth. "Do you _know_ him?" He asked eagerly.

"I do not, but that name was given to me by a contact I met with earlier today. I was told he may have information in regards to what Erik and I have been searching for"

"And what might that be?" Raoul asked intrigued, as he took in another mouthful of the amber liquid.

Nadir paused a moment, trying to think of a way to break the news to Raoul. Finding no alternative, but to be straightforward, he replied, "Erik's sister."

Raoul spit his drink in the Persian's face, in stunned surprise. "Forgive me, Monsieur Khan," Raoul stammered, removing his handkerchief from his pocket and offering it to Nadir. "Erik has a _sibling_?" He wondered aloud, taking an even longer drink, before continuing, "I was under the impression that he had no family."

Watching as Raoul emptied his glass, Nadir answered quietly, "It is something he was unaware of as well. It was not until recently that he discovered the woman he had known to be his mother was in fact just his real mother's nursemaid." He recounted the story of their trip, explaining how Erik had actually not been born with his deformity, as well as the meeting with his real mother, and the ultimate announcement that he had a twin.

"And this is why you and Erik are here in Bornu." Raoul stated as a matter of fact, considering the Persian's words. He waved his hand, motioning toward the barkeep for another round and then continued, "Not only do I find your story unbelievable, but the odds of us meeting this way and possibly having the same man involved in _his_ sister's abduction is incredible, to say the least. I ask you, Monsieur Khan, _what_ are the odds?" Raoul shook his head, completely perplexed. It seemed so incredulous that such a random thing could bring them all together.

Nadir paused, as the next round of drinks arrived. He waiting until they were alone once more, before addressing Raoul's question. "You have to understand that I believe in a higher power, one that guides us, as we travel along life's journey. Sometimes we make decisions, or take actions, that lead us off of our pre-destined path. When that happens, you'll find that the resolution to these divergences is often simpler than you can imagine. For example, Erik is struggling with his feelings for his new found family, yet the steadying force in his life, Christine, just happens to be here with us. By the same token, you are here in Bornu, attempting the safe release of your wife, yet obviously way in over your head." Nadir swirled his drink around in the glass, "No offense, Comte."

"None taken," Raoul waved Nadir off, "and I thank you for your kind thoughts, Monsieur Khan, but…" he began tentatively, but was interrupted, as Nadir continued.

"Yet now, in us, you've found two capable allies to aid you on your quest, where previously you had none." He stopped and took a drink, staring at Raoul intently. "But you still look at this as just a coincidence." Nadir smiled and continued. "I, on the other hand, look at this whole series of events as a sign from my God. That the separate paths we've all walked, shall converge once again into our destiny."

Raoul pondered his words and the sincerity of his tone. _"This foreigner's attitude seems so odd, and yet so natural."_

Before raising his glass to his lips once more, Nadir offered, "I'm right, you'll see." He took a sip and then added, "Remember, Comte, even the lowliest insect can topple the mightiest tree, if given enough time and opportunity."

Chuckling, the alcohol beginning to take effect, Raoul replied boldly, "Your words are a comfort, my strange Persian friend." He raised his glass to Nadir, "Let all the evil men in the world stand before us. We will still triumph!"

Nadir nodded, meeting his glass with Raoul's. "Finally you understand, Comte!" He grinned, feeling his buzz arising.

They shared a few more rounds in relative silence, contemplating the tasks in front of them, before resolving to head out and meet with Erik and Christine.

* * *

Sitting at his desk with a crooked grin, Faraj announced, "Tonight's the night, gentlemen!" He ran his finger along the blade of his massive, jeweled scimitar. 

Sebastian looked on, trying not to be intimidated by the display. "And if le Comte doesn't play by our rules?" He asked.

Ranier muttered from behind Sebastien, "Then they all die. Those were _your_ words, Sebastien," he snickered.

Faraj looked his men over, from behind his desk, "I'd prefer to keep the bloodshed to a minimum and I have no doubt that the Comte will see things our way." Standing up, he walked over to the side of the room where a block of carved wood, shaped as a human being, stood on display. "If he refuses to deal with us, then I will strap him to a chair and make him watch as I do _this_!" He slashed at the statue, chopping right through the figure's neck, "To his pretty little wife."

Jean and Sebastian clapped in admiration, as the giant man showcased his sword, high above his head. Ranier's lust for the kill was evident in his eyes. Guifford, on the other hand, remained silent. While the others laughed uproariously, he contemplated the events to come.

"Enough of this!" Faraj said abruptly, before clapping his hands. He addressed his attentive servants, as they rushed into the room. "Make the house ready and prepare a feast for my guests. Surely, this will be a night to remember." With his hard eyes betraying his open smile, the servants trembled and hurried to comply with their master's wishes.

* * *

It was a miracle that both men had found themselves at The Crystal Orchid. Taking several wrong turns, it was purely dumb luck that had brought them where they intended to be. Stumbling up the stairs, in their drunken fog, they finally came upon the door of Erik's room. Nadir tried composing himself, as did Raoul. They were very much inebriated, yet they were trying to hold in their fits of laughter, without much success. 

Clearing his throat, Nadir shushed Raoul. "It would not be wise to disturb him, in our condition," Nadir hiccupped, causing Raoul to snicker again. "Shhh," he placed his finger to his lips, "We wouldn't want to find ourselves at the end of his Punjab lasso."

Rolling his eyes, Raoul shoved the Persian forward, whispering loudly, "Well, he's already skewered me today and I've _been_ at the end of his lasso. I do believe it's your turn!"

"Get a hold of yourself, Comte!" Nadir said seriously. He steadied himself, placing the key into the lock and turning it. "Remember... quietly..."

"You go in and make sure it's safe first," Raoul pushed Nadir roughly into the room, quickly closing the door again.

Nadir took a few steps and caught himself, before he could fall flat on his face. In the distance, he spotted Erik and Christine in bed, sound asleep. _"Thank you, Allah!"_ Nadir looked to the heavens. Turning toward the door, to let Raoul in, he fumbled the key in his hand, dropping it on the floor. He made a move to catch it, but missed.

Hoping the noise did not wake the sleeping pair, he glanced back in their direction slowly, thanking his God yet again that they were indeed still asleep. He crouched down, cursing himself silently, as he picked the key up. As he stood up from his crouched position, he was grabbed immediately, a hand clasped firmly around his mouth, as he was spun around by a naked Erik.

"Daroga! I could have _killed_ you!" Erik snapped, as he held his hand over his friend's mouth. "You're lucky I didn't have my sword at the ready!" He lowered his hand from over Nadir's mouth, his eyes burning with outrage.

Looking down briefly, Nadir responded, "I've seen your sword, old boy. I'm not impressed." He laughed quietly at his own joke.

The smell of alcohol hit Erik, as soon as Nadir spoke up. Pushing him back, Erik spat in disgust, "You _reek_ of a brewery! Fall into the barrel with _de Chagny_, did you?" Erik looked over Nadir's shoulder, spotting Raoul peering behind the door, red-faced, and attempting to look inconspicuous.

Christine stirred, hearing the low voices muffled beyond her. She sat up, rubbing at her eyes. "Erik? Who are you talking to?"

"Damn it, you woke her!" Erik scowled at the two men, before turning in Christine's direction. "Rest, mon ange. It is only Nadir," he attempted, in a soothing voice.

"Is that Raoul too, at the door?" She blinked a few times, as Raoul slid into the room from behind the door, raising his hand hesitantly to her in a greeting.

Christine viewed his tattered clothes, immediately remembering he had been in a tussle with her husband earlier. Pulling the covers around her hastily, she got out of bed and walked toward Raoul. The closer she got, she could see dried blood all over his left pant leg, from an apparent wound above his thigh. The side of his mouth held a bruise, similar to the one which Erik had beneath his left eye. She raised her hand, reaching out to him in sympathy.

Erik watched the exchange and quickly reached Raoul first, stepping between him and Christine. "Get dressed, Christine," Erik said, as he shoved Raoul back into the hall, closing the door.

"Erik, don't be rude!" Christine chided him.

"I shall let him in, _once_ you are decent." Erik motioned with his head toward the bathroom.

"You're the _naked _one!" She accused hotly, staring at him up and down.

Nadir chuckled once again, trying hard not to look at the embarrassed couple. His laughter grew boisterous, as Erik fumbled for a pillow, on the sofa, to cover himself.

"Not one word, _Daroga_," Erik warned, his face flushed.

Christine looked down at herself, suddenly flustered, as she realized only a thin sheet separated her bare body from the eyes of the Persian. She quickly whipped her hand around to her backside, making sure she was not exposed to Nadir.

With a huge grin, the Persian bowed, excusing himself to join Raoul in the hall.

Erik fumed, as the sounds of their drunken laughter came through the door, while he and Christine got dressed.

* * *

**Author's Note**  
I apologize for such a short update. I was going to add more, but due to circumstances beyond my control, I was unable to finish this chapter accordingly. To make a long story short, there's a serious family matter that will hinder my weekly updates over the next couple of weeks. I will be back as soon as I can and I appreciate the support I've gotten thus far. I love this story and my readers, but know that this is something I must devote my time to at the moment. Thank you all for the beautiful reviews, for understanding, and for your patience during this difficult time. 


	18. Chapter 18

**Divider Reminder**  
A portion of this chapter is not separated with the usual "divider." Instead, I have placed "**-XXX-**" to split the instances within the same scene (which is going on at exactly the same time). Just a recap to remind folks. -hugs-

On with the show…

**CHAPTER 18**

Cinching his belt around his waist, Erik walked toward the door to allow Nadir and Raoul back inside. Both men stumbled in, making their way clumsily toward the small table on the opposite side of the room. He eyed them both, shaking his head in disappointment.

"_This_ is what happens when I leave you for a mere few hours, Daroga?" Erik asked, the disdain evident in his tone.

Nadir simply rolled his eyes at him, taking a seat in the process.

"And _you_, de Chagny…" Erik furrowed his brow, eyeing him sternly, "…I had expected _better_ from you. I would have thought your _breeding_ would prevent you from such _slovenly _pursuits."

Raoul waved him off, uninterested in his emphatic scolding.

Erik glanced over to his wife, who emerged from the bathroom fully clothed. "Christine, please go downstairs and bring a pot of tea for our two sotted halfwits."

Walking up to him, she placed her hand on his right shoulder delicately, leaning to whisper in his ear. "Behave while I am gone."

"Do not take long or I shall worry," he replied tenderly, one hand coming up to caress her face.

"I won't," she kissed the inside of his palm and stepped away, turning to walk out of the room.

Pulling a chair and seating himself before Nadir and Raoul, Erik brought his hands to rest on the table, clasping them together. "So…" he began, "…_if_ either of you are able, what news do you have for me?"

Raoul looked to Nadir and the Persian waved him on, motioning for him to proceed. He reached into his jacket, pulling the letter from his pocket, and handed it to Erik.

Unfolding the letter, Erik read through it with a scrutinized eye. _"I'll kill this man if any harm befalls Meg!" _Gathering his thoughts, he handed the letter back to Raoul. "The hour draws near. We must prepare and you two _need_ to sober up!" He pressed strongly.

"There's something else you must know, Erik," Nadir managed to add.

Erik wondered what else there could be. "Is there more?"

Nadir recalled the brief encounter of the morning. "Our contact provided that same name to me, when I met him in the market square."

"You mean to tell me that…" Erik stopped in mid-sentence, as Christine returned, tray in hand. He stood up to relieve her of the tray, carefully placing it upon the table. She began to pour as he considered the news he was given.

Taking a sip from his teacup, he brought it to rest between his hands and continued. "This will require a more delicate approach, if my sister is amongst these same men who hold Meg captive."

Christine dropped the teacup she held out to Raoul, spilling it on his lap. He let out a yelp as the hot liquid soaked through his pants. "Oh, Raoul, forgive me!" She exclaimed.

"It's alright, Christine," he insisted. "It's the least of the injuries I've sustained this day," he sighed, as she ran into the bathroom.

Returning with a towel and handing it to Raoul, she looked to her husband and asked, "Do you think your sister is involved with Meg's kidnapping?"

"I'm not sure what to think right now, mon ange, but there's only one way to find out for certain."

Erik thought of the possibilities of finding his sister, yet should she be voluntarily aiding in Meg's abduction, he would be sorely disappointed. There was no telling what options he would be left with, should it come down to a matter of Meg's safe retrieval or the promise he made to his mother.

"How are we to proceed, Erik?" Nadir asked, viewing his friend's sudden discomfort.

Standing up and beginning to pace the room, Erik pondered the best course of action. He stopped behind Raoul and laid a hand on his shoulder, as he dabbed at his wet trousers. "Tonight, you will agree to whatever this _Faraj_ asks of you, Comte. While you are in his company, Nadir and I will surveil the premises. If this man's wishes are not contested, you should be able to bring Meg from that place safely. He seems only to be interested in monetary matters, but you will have to play the part of a _willing_ partner." Raoul looked up at Erik, anticipating further instructions. "Do not appear _too_ eager, but once the negotiations are finalized, make sure to keep him occupied long enough for Nadir and I to move in and out of his place without alerting him to our presence."

"Let me go with Raoul. I'd like to help," Christine spoke up tentatively.

Simultaneously, all three men said, "Absolutely not!"

"I'm not _completely_ unable to be of any use. I'm still very much able bodied!" She objected, fuming at their denial.

Erik took hold of Christine's hands, looking into her eyes and trying to sooth her with his. "Christine, do not forget what you've promised me. Your only concern should be getting some rest, for the baby's sake and yours. We shall recover Meg. This I promise you."

Succumbing to the intensity of his gaze, she finally nodded her head in acquiescence and remained silent while they continued their conversation. It was hard for her to listen to them discuss their plans and not be able to include herself. She had made a promise and was now bound to it, but yet she still could not shake the urge to aid in any way that she could.

Seated at the table, they discussed the details meticulously, not wanting to overlook a single element. Erik would periodically glance back at Christine, as the men finalized their plan. He squeezed her hand lovingly as they concluded. "Lie down and try to get some sleep, bel ange.

"I'd like to speak with Raoul first, if that's ok, mon amour."

Erik glanced over at Raoul who stared back with a questioning glance. "I'll allow it," he decided, looking back to Christine. "But do not take much of his time. He'll need to go back to the marketplace and acquire proper attire for tonight, as well as transport," he stated, not wanting to delay a moment longer than necessary.

"I understand. It won't take long," she replied simply.

Christine stood up and held her hand out to Raoul. He took another glance toward Erik, as the masked man nodded in approval. He took her hand and she guided him over to the long sofa by the window.

Sitting down, she patted the space beside her. "Please, sit with me a moment, mon ami," she asked, peering up at him.

"What is this about, Lotte?" He asked genuinely concerned, as he seated himself beside her.

"I must apologize for deceiving you when you assumed I had been to see the doctor in France. I had felt much better the following morning and I hadn't thought about it. You must believe that I was not aware of my pregnancy until the doctor confirmed it here. It would account for all of the episodes I've been having as well as my eating habits," she explained, wanting to get the burden of her shame out in the open.

"Christine, you don't have to…" he paused as she placed a hand to his knee.

"Let me finish please, Raoul," she said stubbornly. "It was not my intention to have you worry over me. I wanted to come for you and Meg. Nothing you could have said would have kept me from being here and I would still be here had I known I was with child. I just want you to know that. I don't want you thinking you've put me in any danger. You've done nothing but look after me since we left France and for that I thank you." She looked at him with open appreciation and smiled.

Raoul took her hands within his and returned her smile thoughtfully. "There's nothing you could ever do to make me upset with you. I'm just glad you are safe," he responded, running his thumbs across her knuckles warmly. "And though I'm quite overwhelmed by the news, I am excited for you and your baby. You will make a wonderful and loving mother, Christine. Of that I am certain." Raoul paused a moment, thinking of the best way to approach his next words. "I don't mean to overstep the boundaries of your relationship and you'll forgive me for asking, but did he tell you that he was not born with his…"

"You don't have to worry about that, Raoul," she interrupted him. "And had there been a possibility of birthing a child with such a defect, I would still love the baby just as much as I love him, if not more."

Exhaling in relief, Raoul looked her in the eyes, "No doubt, little Lotte. I just wanted to make sure you knew this. I wasn't sure if you'd worry about it, since you did faint when I announced your pregnancy in the hospital."

Erik stood up and walked over to Raoul and Christine. "It's time. We must prepare in order to make it at an appropriate hour," he announced, his voice showing his stern conviction.

Raoul nodded at Erik and then focused back on Christine. "Since I will be getting some clothes at the market square, would you like for me to get you anything? I was…" he coughed nervously, "…otherwise detained earlier, and failed to get anything for us.

Christine opened her mouth to respond, but Erik was quick to answer him. "I shall get the things she requires while I am out hiring a nurse to sit with her tonight. You busy yourself with your own needs, de Chagny."

"Erik, really, he was just being considerate," she shot him a look of stern disappointment.

He cursed himself silently for being so short tempered where Raoul was concerned and for upsetting his wife in such a manner. "My apologies, de Chagny. Perhaps I should have phrased that better. What I meant to say was that we'd get things accomplished much quicker in this fashion," he offered his hand to Raoul, who stared at it a moment before accepting it.

Christine took Erik's other hand and squeezed it warmly, as the two men shook hands. Looking up at her husband she smiled with thankfulness for his attempted efforts. She knew it was still hard for him to even tolerate Raoul, but the fact that he was trying for her sake, made all the difference in the world.

* * *

Alhena and Meg prepared the entertainment hall, lighting scented sticks of incense, setting various colored pillows along the salon sofas, and preparing the drink stations with an assortment of imported spirits. As Meg lined the silver trays with the gold flecked glasses, she accidentally dropped one. The anticipation of Raoul's arrival had her nerves on end. 

Alhena clapped twice for one of the lower house servants to attend to the pieces of glass that scattered the marbled floor. "Faraj would not think twice about lashing you for this." She glared hard at Meg

"I'm sorry. I'm just eager to be reunited with my husband. Hopefully this will be my last night here," Meg replied, carefully laying out the glasses once more.

"You should not be so _lost_ in your anticipation of some _heroic_ rescue," Alhena pointed out, mocking the blond girl and her naiveté.

"He will do _whatever_ it takes to remove me from this place. I have faith in him," Meg stated resolutely.

"You poor little fool," Alhena laughed in response. "It may take more than _faith_ to free you from here. We shall see what the night brings," she snorted in derision, returning to her work once more.

* * *

As the sun fell below the African sky, Erik, Nadir, and Raoul rode toward Kukawa. Erik had said his goodbyes to Christine, who kept insinuating skillfully until the end to let her join them. There was no way he was going to give into her pleas as much as it pained him to deny her anything. _"This way I know she's safe,"_ he thought to himself, _"She's carrying our child now and I'll be damned if anything should happen to her."_ He thought about attending to Christine over the next few months and up until the birth of the baby. _"Our first child,"_ he smiled as they rode, looking up to the night sky in wonderment. _"I hope to be a good father. I will love him or her as much as I love my Angel,"_ he vowed silently. 

Nadir watched Erik curiously as he looked to the heavens. His friend was obviously lost in thought, but at least the smile on his face showed it was a happy thought for a change. After several weeks of watching him worry and doubt, hopefully he was now seeing the light that existed within all apparent darkness.

"It should be just along that hillside there," Raoul advised both men. In the distance a faint light could be seen.

Focusing once more, Erik adjusted his weapons on his belt. "We should separate here then, in case there are eyes ahead of us. We won't be too far behind you, Comte. Just remember what we've discussed and things will be fine," he reminded him.

Raoul nodded curtly and spurred his horse ahead, following the path that led toward The Jeweled Moon. Erik and Nadir veered off to the left to find a heavily shaded area to tie their horses down undetected. They would then continue on foot and surveil the premises as planned.

* * *

Upon arriving before the large iron reinforced doors of the bath house, Raoul was confronted by a couple of heavily armed guards. As one approached, motioning him off his horse, he noticed the other had a loaded crossbow leveled at his chest. Sliding down, he spread his arms wide, allowing the nearest guard to search him and relieve him of his weapons. Satisfied, he stepped behind Raoul and prodded him forward into the house. 

Once inside, another guard pointed down the hall and fell into step behind Raoul with his saber drawn. At the end of the hall, a stationed guard holding a pike dropped it down in front of him, denying further progress. The guard behind him stepped around and into the room to announce his arrival.

Re-emerging, the guard motioned for the young Comte to enter.

As Raoul stepped in he was instantly confronted by a smug Sebastien, lounging in a chair with a drink in one hand and a pistol in the other, casually pointed in his direction.

"So good of you to make an appearance, Comte. We almost thought you wouldn't show up. In fact, we had a little wager on it," he said, looking over at Ranier, who stared at Raoul with cold, dead eyes. "Pity you did," he continued, "I would have liked to get my hands on your precious wife. She's quite the little tease and…"

Raoul spit in his face, staring him down. His naked rage was evident to all, as Sebastien stumbled to his feet and leveled his weapon at the Comte in anger.

"That's quite enough!" A deep voice boomed from the darkness behind Sebastien, as he reluctantly lowered his pistol and wiped at his face with his handkerchief, cursing under his breath.

Faraj stood from his seated position and stepped into the light.

Raoul was now in the presence of a very large and intimidating foreigner, whose towering frame engulfed him easily.

"Le Comte's business is with me. You're _excused_, Sebastien!" Faraj stated threateningly and then looked over to Ranier, dismissing him with a simple wave.

"Quite the _shiner_ you've got there," Sebastien mentioned sarcastically, viewing the bruised side of Raoul's mouth. "Have a bit of a spat with your _mistress_?" He chuckled heartily as he stepped past Raoul and out into the hall.

Ranier sneered at Raoul as he followed Sebastien out, shutting the door behind him.

"Welcome to my home! Have a seat!" Faraj said merrily, gesturing where Sebastien had been sitting moments before. Despite his apparent mirth, his movements showed he was more than ready for any action on Raoul's part.

Raoul took the seat he was offered and Faraj followed suit, settling back into his own chair.

"Shall we get down to _business_ then?" The big man asked as he removed several ledgers from his desk drawer and looked over them briefly.

Raoul considered his foe carefully. "I'd like to see my wife. I need to know she has not been harmed."

"First things first, Comte," Faraj laughed. "I assure you, she's been well taken care of… _so far_. It will be entirely up to you to see that it _remains_ so." The warning in his voice was not lost on Raoul.

Remembering Erik's words, Raoul managed to calm his tense nerves and asked carefully, "Exactly what sort of business deal did you have with my brother? Naturally, I will need to know every detail if I am even to consider this proposal of yours."

Faraj eyed Raoul carefully before opening the ledgers before him and continuing. "I see you're a man who likes to get right to business." He leaned back, glancing at a map on the wall. "I run a very large underground transport of slaves via several countries. France has been an integral part of this operation for many years and your brother had sought me out after hearing about this lucrative business opportunity from the French ambassador's close associates. This partnership has been a thriving business, upheld over the years through financial contributions of its supporters. It is through the trades that their money is returned more times over. As long as the influx remains steady, all parties remain substantially wealthy."

Raoul looked around in confusion. "I've seen the lavish comforts of your home and it seems you're doing just fine without my financial backing. Why is my participation even necessary?"

"As a Comte and in taking your brother's place, you would be our go between via our other French partners. Without a managing force, their continued cooperation may become… _questionable_. Your brother had kept them mostly in line and accessible. This is why his loss has left me in quite a troublesome position," Faraj frowned dramatically.

Raoul remained silent, listening to every word the man said. _"So this would explain all those business matters I was unable to resolve because of the cryptic entries within Philippe's ledgers." _He cleared his throat and addressed Faraj. "If I am to refuse this proposition, I don't have to guess where that would lead us. I'm no fool Monsieur Ajani. You should know that my wife's safety means everything to me, so you leave me no choice but to comply with your wishes." Raoul took a moment to take a deep breath before adding, "_But_, I'll also have you know that I expect to get thirty percent more of whatever my brother was receiving. Think of it as a deal made in good faith." He interlaced his fingers, bringing his hands behind his head and leaned into the chair. "I expect to be compensated for my troubles after all. You do _understand_, Monsieur," he eyed Faraj steadily.

Faraj matched his stare, attempting to discern the validity of the Comte's words and the depth of sincerity behind them.

With an arrogant flare, Raoul continued, "You will learn that I am not like my brother and surely not as _mindless _as he was. No doubt the profits have increased significantly over the years and I only seek my fair share if I am to hold an important position within this operation," he finished with a grin, hoping he had sold himself to Faraj.

Faraj continued to consider Raoul's words. He didn't want to be made a fool of, but he could sense within his opponents eyes, that slight twinkle of avarice. "Oh, but you do share something in common with that of your brother… your _greed_!" He laughed heartily. "I will enjoy having you as my new partner, Comte!"

Faraj stood up and offered his hand to Raoul, who stood as well and gripped his hand firmly, shaking it.

"Come, let us celebrate our alliance! There is a feast awaiting us in the entertainment hall," Faraj smacked Raoul's back, who stumbled slightly from the force of the impact. "This will be a most memorable night. You shall enjoy the girls I have lined up for us this evening. They are the best at what they do," he grinned.

"My wife, Monsieur? I'd like to see her now."

"In due time, Comte. I shall have her brought down to us."

Shooting a glance down the hall, thinking he saw some movement out of the corner of his eyes, Raoul replied quietly. "Very well."

**-XXX-**

Before both men reached the door, Alhena retreated quickly down the hall, having heard every spoken word. _"So, that husband of hers is very much the pompous ass I suspected he would be. This night will be a memorable one, indeed. I shall see to that!" _She fled to her room, gathering a few items to prepare for the events to come.

**-XXX-**

After completely surveiling the bath house from outside, Erik and Nadir found that the exterior grounds were not nearly as guarded as the inside of the property was. They inspected every aspect of the building with ease and found several balconies that could be accessed by scaling the sides of the jagged wall surface or simply climbing via a rope attached to its iron bars. They would get to that soon enough, but first they needed to find Raoul and make sure things were going as planned. Coming upon a barred window which was partially dressed on the inside in red and gold drapery, both men peered inside.

Festivities of a celebratory kind seemed to be well into the works. They saw Raoul in the far corner surrounded by a shady bunch of characters and one rather imposing man seated at his right. Scanning the room further, there was a mass of servants catering to them. Music, food, and drink were in abundance and several scantily clad women danced before the men.

As the music came to a close, Erik and Nadir watched Faraj call for his 'Tigress' as he referred to her. Within moments, there emerged a vision as beautiful as the setting desert sun. She was dressed provocatively in sheer silks and satin cloths of red and orange hues. Sequins and beads in gold and silver adorned her outfit intricately. Delicate embroidery work curved along her frame from the front and the back, mesmerizing all eyes which fastened upon her as she moved.

As both men lay stunned to her beauty, Erik felt beyond a shadow of a doubt that the woman who displayed herself with commanding grace was none other than his long lost sibling. There was no mistaking her features, her eyes of jade, much like his own but darker, and her face, holding the strong resemblance of what Erik had seen in the images depicted in his father's paintings. _"She is much like our mother in her youth."_ The connection which drew him at that moment was undeniable. _"That is my sister… I know it!"_

Nadir was beside himself as he watched the woman slink into the room in such a fashion that made his heart race and his body flush with the heat of a thousand candles. He nudged Erik's side, without taking his eyes off of the vixen beyond him, "Allah in heaven," he said, admiring her form before continuing, "I sincerely hope that isn't your sister, old boy, because I am having some seriously impure thoughts right now," he finished, lost within her swaying movements.

With fire in his eyes, he turned his head slowly in Nadir's direction, observing as the Persian continued to feast his eyes upon Alhena blatantly. "That _is_ my sister, Daroga…" Erik growled and then his voice rose, "…and if you've had quite _enough_, you will _cease_ ogling her this instant, before I am _compelled_ to snatch the eyes from your skull!

**-XXX-**

"Master," Alhena addressed the hulk of a man before her, bowing slightly.

Faraj leered at her. "Be a good girl and get le Comte a drink. You are to cater to him _exclusively_ tonight."

"Yes, Master," she bowed once more, and then walked over to the drink station.

Raoul found himself captivated by her striking beauty. There wasn't a man alive that wouldn't feel a sensual attraction toward her. "She's very…"

"Beautiful…" Faraj finished for him. "She is my most _prized _possession. She's delicate to the touch, but fire fuels her soul. She is like no other. For this reason I have never been able to place her amongst the trade. I have inherited this place and follow in my father's legacy. I had begged him not to place her amongst the common slaves when she first arrived here many years ago. Even then, at such a young age, her beauty was unmatched. She was to be mine and he granted me this. Over the years the ungrateful bitch has refused me, but that hasn't stopped me from _taming _her. She has come to obey me and continues to do so."

"I see," Raoul replied simply as he thought, _"This man is a malicious dog!"_

"Let her perform for you, Comte. If you wish it, she will be yours for the evening," he offered grandly. "Your brother delighted in her body on more than one occasion."

Raoul was disgusted by Faraj's forward recount of his brother's indiscretions. The mere thought of sharing in Philippe's bedded conquests made him sick to his stomach. Before he could reject his offer, wanting nothing more than to leave with his wife, Faraj called to Alhena, who was preparing the drink tray for service.

With her back to their guests, she deftly applied a form of powder into the decanter's contents, before it was carried off by another servant and presented before Raoul. The servant poured him a glass, which he took up and began to drink.

"Dance of the Golden Serpent, Alhena," Faraj commanded, clapping his hands.

Alhena bowed again, and stood tall as the beat of the drums stirred. Slowly she began to move her hips in time with the beat, her hands entangling around the flowing red scarf which wrapped about her waist. She pulled it free with ease and followed suit with the orange scarf which lined underneath the first.

Raoul took a long drink, emptying his glass and setting it onto the small table on his left. _"Alhena? Erik's sister? Could this possible be her?"_ He lost himself in thought as he watched her hypnotic dance.

**-XXX-**

"You do know she's drugged whatever that is he's drinking," Nadir said to Erik, after watching her at the bar.

"And?" Erik answered, watching the events in the room.

"Should we not go in there and aid him? I'm not quite sure I like where this is going," he responded, thinking that foul play might befall the Comte.

"He'll be fine, Nadir," Erik chuckled, knowing full well that they wouldn't dispose of their benefactor. "No harm will come to him, though he will likely have a _wonderful _headache in the morning," he said pleasantly.

Nadir shook his head. "It's times like these that make me realize just how twisted your mind works, as far as its idea of _entertainment _goes."

Erik watched, grinning all the while as Alhena seduced Raoul with her lavish display of dance. "_That ogre of a man just confirmed what I already knew to be true. She is my sister."_ Without turning his attention away from the happenings of inside, he instructed Nadir to seek out Meg while he kept an eye on Raoul and Alhena.

**-XXX-**

After emptying a second glass, Raoul leaned back against the cushioned sofa, as the lights began to dim slightly in correspondence to Alhena's dance. The rustic metal hanging lamp which hung above her, was unique with its intricate cutwork patterns and various colored glass. The soft light emitting through the patterns created a starry effect, flickering along the walls of the room. He felt it hard to concentrate between the rainbow hued lights spinning around and the rhythmic perfection of her movements as she fanned her silk scarves exotically in his direction.

His muscles began to relax, giving way to a euphoric sensation. Hypnotized by her body, it seemed as if she floated before him. His perception of the room began to distort. Objects became either muted or sharpened randomly. As the music picked up, his altered state of consciousness gave way to hallucinations. He suddenly saw Meg before him, enticing him with her smile and reaching out to him seductively.

Without a second thought, Raoul took Alhena's hand and was led to her room, while Faraj's laughter followed them out of the hall. Once in her room, she guided him over to her bed and began to remove his clothing, smirking at the blissful expression on the Comte's enraptured face.

**-XXX-**

Meg had been told to wait in Alhena's room until sent for. She had taken a bath and was preparing to finally leave this place with Raoul; back to her beloved France. She heard muffled sounds from beyond the bathroom door, as she brushed out her damp hair. "_Alhena must be back to bring me to Raoul," _she thought in excitement.

As she turned the knob to open the door, she heard a giggling voice, which was quite familiar to her, _"Raoul?" _She glanced behind the door, spotting Alhena on her bed, straddled atop none other than her husband. He was naked beneath her, as his hands caressed her back intently.

Meg's hand shot up to her mouth, tears quickly welling up within her eyes, yet she couldn't look away from the apparent betrayal she was witnessing.

**-XXX-**

Alhena moved forward, resting against Raoul's bare chest as he continued to giggle uncontrollably. As wildly as his mind fought against him, he could not resist her. _"What's happening to me?"_ His subdued consciousness struggled to think, but all he could focus on was his hands being brought above his head by the figure before him. They were secured fast, by those same alluring scarves she'd been mesmerizing him with earlier.

She ran her hands down his arms and to his chest, rubbing into it flirtatiously. Slowly moving her hands up and past his shoulders, she reached underneath the pillow. Inconspicuously she pulled forth a silver curved dagger, its handle shaped into a dragon's head. She kissed him, as she moved her right hand lower, her dagger gripped firmly within, bringing it between his legs.

Breaking the kiss suddenly, she glared at him dangerously and said, "Now, give me a good reason _why_ I shouldn't collect _these_," she rested the blade against him, "and absolve you of your manhood."

Fear brought a sudden clarity. Seeing the situation clearly for a brief moment, Raoul whimpered beneath her, stuttering for words that would not come. With the effects of the drug taking hold once more, his emotions became dramatically imbalanced and without warning he began to cry in despair. _"Damn it! Get a hold of yourself, Raoul!"_ His rational mind berated.

Meg had seen more than enough. She knew that whatever was happening, her husband was obviously under some kind of spell. She willed her feet forward and stormed into the room. "Alhena, do not do this!" She pleaded passionately.

"He's a pig, Meg! He's no better than those men downstairs!" Alhena spat the words out, keeping her hand steady.

"That's not true! He's a good man! You said he would not come for me, but you see, he has!"

Alhena scoffed at the blonde girl. "Yes, your brave man to the rescue." She looked at the still blubbering Comte as she continued. "Well, did you know that he's agreed to Faraj's proposal? To continuing funding his underground slave trade? They were celebrating their partnership and I, of course, was offered to your husband for the evening!"

Meg furrowed her brow, considering her words before speaking. "I… I don't believe you…" she managed, "It can't be true!"

Raoul tried desperately to stop his weeping. His emotions continued to run high in his induced state, keeping his mind in a haze as he attempted to speak, "I… we… a plan to…" his words made no sense as Alhena focused her attention back onto him.

"Try not to speak," she cooed softly. "I promise I shall make this quick, though it's a pity you will hardly feel a thing considering the effects of the drug I've given you." She kissed him in mock fashion and was about to twist the blade.

Nadir stepped in from his hidden position in the balcony. He had witnessed the two girls arguing once he had made it to the top, though he hadn't realized just how dead set Alhena was in turning Raoul into a eunuch. "I do believe what our poor delirious Comte is trying to say is that this was all an intended plan to bring his wife safely from this place and her captors."

"Monsieur Khan!" Meg said in stunned surprise.

Alhena turned her head in the Persian's direction. "Who are _you_ and most importantly, how in the _hell _did you get in here?" She steadily rose, but not before slapping Raoul and telling him to stay put.

Meg ran over to the bed, covering Raoul with a sheet and embraced him fiercely.

Nadir swallowed hard as he watched Alhena approach him slowly. "I am Nadir Khan. How I've come to be here is not important. The only thing you need to know, for now, is that we've come for Meg and also to take you from this place and that man's tyrannical hold on you," he managed, matching her intent stare with equal passion.

"We…?" Alhena paused in thought before continuing, "Your purpose for the _woman _I understand, but for me?" She continued her approach and Nadir once again was fascinated by the subtle movements of her body. She slid her dagger into her skirt behind her, freeing her hands and then bringing them to his face. She caressed him warmly, smiling seductively.

Nadir became instantly enthralled in her witchery, blinding him to nothing else but her touch and drowning within the intensity of her eyes. "Well… I… we… our intentions…" He felt like a complete fool and surely Erik would lash him for the impurities which remained at the forefront of his mind this very moment.

Alhena continued to glide her hands along his chest, making every inch of him melt, lowering his defenses. She brought her hands back up to his face, pulling him down to meet her lips. Kissing him purposefully, she unwittingly brought her right hand down behind her and pulled her dagger free. With abrupt force, she brought the blade dangerously close against Nadir's neck. "You should _not_ have come here!"

With that she called out for the guards.

**-XXX-**

Christine looked up to the balcony, the rope swayed slightly against the evening breeze. She knew she should have stayed in the room, as she was told to do, but her stubbornness prevented her for doing what she had promised. _"Not while I can still be of some use!" _

She had easily dismissed the nurse that Erik had brought to watch over her. She was able to borrow the proprietor's Barb horse and followed the threesome at a distance. None of them had been the wiser and as they separated, she took the path right, securing her horse to a tree and continued on foot, toward the bath house.

Securing the weapons Raoul had given her, she took a deep breath and brought her hands around the rope. She climbed steadily, making her ascent toward the balcony.

Barely a few feet into her climb, she froze.

"A woman in _your_ condition should neither be climbing in such a fashion _nor _should you _be _here!" Erik hissed at her, stepping out from the shadows.

Christine shut her eyes, knowing full well she was about to get scolded by her husband. Within a blink of an eye, she felt his hands wrap around her waist, bringing her to her feet. He turned her to meet his eyes.

"Christine…" he sighed. "_Why_ have you disobeyed me?" He shook his head.

To her surprise he was not so much angered by her presence, but more so concerned.

With apologetic eyes, she began, "Erik, I'm sorry. I…"

"Shhhh!" He grabbed her shoulders, bringing her to a crouching position with him.

Distant voices could be heard above them.

"Something's not right," Erik whispered quietly. "Come. I shall bring us up."

He brought her before the rope, looking up toward the balcony and calculating the distance ahead. "Climb upon my back, mon ange," he instructed, wrapping his hands around the rope.

Standing behind him, she brought her arms around his neck carefully, yet securely, and wrapped her legs around his waist.

"Are you ready, mon ange?"

"Oui," she replied, trying to keep her voice calm.

Her weight upon his back did not hinder their swift ascent toward the balcony. She was amazed by the ease in which he brought them to the top.

**-XXX-**

Nadir cursed himself for letting his body take over his rational mind. He looked to Alhena with compassionate eyes and bowed his head as the guards hauled him off.

"Why did you do that!" Meg yelled at her, once the guards had exited the room.

"You're _not_ to question my actions! I do not _know_ him and he's _ludicrous_ for ever believing I need saving. I do not _need_ nor _want_ it!"

As Meg was about to retort, Faraj came bursting into the room, Sebastien and his men behind him.

**-XXX-**

Within the safety of the balcony, Erik and Christine witnessed the guards removing Nadir from the room. _"Damn it! How could you let this happen, Daroga!" _

Christine leaned against Erik's back, covering her mouth as she watched the Persian being hauled away. "Oh no… Not Nadir! This is not good, mon amour!" She said excitedly.

"Keep your voice down, Christine," he silenced her.

He grabbed her hand and as he was about to bring her inside with him, he held her back suddenly as Faraj entered the room in anger.

**-XXX-**

"What is the meaning of this!" Faraj roared. "I _demand_ to know who that man is!" He strode over to Raoul, prying Meg away from him. She fell backward off the bed, landing with a painful thump on the floor. He brought himself within inches of Raoul's face. "He had better _not_ be with you, Comte," he fumed at the bound man.

The effects of the drug still coursing through his veins, Raoul managed, "Not with me." Unknowingly he was making a poor attempt at mimicking Faraj, but the large man was none the wiser.

Faraj walked over to Alhena, gripping her chin firmly. "Well done, my pet," he forced his mouth upon her and then shoved her back roughly. "I shall have to question this _stranger_," he said, grinning evilly.

**-XXX-**

Erik felt completely helpless. He didn't want his or Christine's presence known, especially while Meg and Raoul were still inside. And now with Nadir being captured, he'd have to rethink his plan as well as how to approach his sister.

"Come, Christine. We must leave this place." He swept her into his arms and brought them back down the rope.

"But what about them?" She referred to her friends inside, as they descended rapidly.

"I have no doubts Raoul and Meg will be joining us back at The Crystal Orchard shortly, but Nadir," he sighed, "I will need return to collect him as well as my sister."

"_That_ was your sister, Erik?" She asked, puzzled.

"Oui."

"She didn't seem…" she paused, trying to phrase her words lightly, "…to be held _against_ her wishes."

"There is much I need to consider, Christine, but for now, we must flee." He held her hand as they distanced themselves from the bath house, making their way toward the concealed horses.

* * *

Not wanting to be in the company of Meg and Raoul, Alhena busied herself in the kitchen. She would visit Faraj later and inquire further on the stranger's identity and his motives. _"I'm sure Faraj has not wasted any time in finding out all he needs to know."_

Several hours had past before Raoul felt more like himself. He had met with Faraj and told him he would be taking Meg back into town. He was surprised that Faraj did not refuse his request, but he would not waste his time questioning it.

Once Raoul and Meg had left the bath house, Faraj ordered Guifford to follow them from afar and to keep a close eye on them. "Should you find _anything_ suspicious regarding our dear Comte, you are to alert me immediately. I still do not _trust_ him completely and I will not, until he provides us with the first installment of funds," Faraj explained.

As Guifford left Faraj's study, Alhena came walking up the hallway. He bowed his head as they passed one another. She did not acknowledge him and continued to make her way down the hall.

Before she had a chance to knock upon the broken arch doors, Faraj emerged from within. "What is it, Alhena?" He asked as he stepped into the hall and shut the door behind him.

"I came to see about that stranger. Has he been released?"

Faraj began to laugh. "Released? Why would I do such a thing? I've only just _begun_ to welcome our guest _properly_."

She raised her eyebrow and questioned him, "What do you mean, Faraj?"

"_First_ I shall find out how he happened to be within my home and why," he cracked his knuckles, balling his fist, "…and _then_ I will make him regret ever coming here." He leaned into her with a wicked grin, "Be on hand to _attend_ to our guest," and then he boasted, "…in 'The Temptress's Embrace.'"

* * *

**Author's Note**  
Due to the inability to update last week, I've decided to make this entry longer. In essence this is like two chapters in one. -smiles- Things on my end have come to a steady calm, so I shall be back to my weekly updates, unless further noted, naturally. I'd like to wish all of those on summer vacation a wonderful holiday break and I'd like to thank all of you for your patience and continued support of my story. Also, please note, I love Raoul and I hope no one thinks I'm bashing him in the last couple of chapters. I just wanted to clarify this. The intent of his inebriation and influence over being drugged by Alhena in this update was necessary for the storyline. I'm very proud of my version of Raoul and he will continue to be my hero (on the side that is, being I'm a diehard Phantom lover -wink-). He's just having a particularly bad day, but things will get better. -comforts Raoul- I have also gained a new reader, Smithsbabe65! Enjoy the journey, mon ami! -hugs- 


	19. Chapter 19

**CHAPTER 19**

It was well past midnight when Raoul and Meg made it back to The Crystal Orchid. Erik had reserved the room next door, as discussed earlier. He knew it would be more convenient to have the couple close by and therefore he insisted upon it.

Christine was expecting to have a long conversation with her husband about breaking her promise, but upon returning to their room he had simply drawn a hot bath for her and tucked her into bed soon afterward.

As he sat contemplating the events of the evening, he noticed the shadows in the hall, coming through against the light underneath the door. He stood up and walked over to the door, unlocking it. As he entered the hall, he caught a brief glimpse of Meg's long golden hair disappearing into the room.

Raoul noticed Erik out of the corner of his eye, just as he was about to follow his wife into the room. He paused, his hand on the doorframe, and unsure of what to say to the man.

"de Chagny…" Erik bowed his head slightly.

Returning the gesture, Raoul spoke softly. "I thought you two would be asleep by now. I hope we didn't disturb either of you at this late hour."

"Christine is asleep, but there is too much on my mind to even think about joining her right now."

Raoul nodded, in full understanding of what he spoke of. Erik's dearest friend was now captive amidst many unsavory men and probably being subjected to unspeakable acts in their absence. "Meg? I'll be but a moment, dearest," he called to her before closing the door. He pocketed his key and addressed Erik once again. "About Nadir…"

Erik raised his hand, cutting Raoul off. "I've thought much this night regarding the Daroga. You need not concern yourself. Seek comfort in the arms of your wife this night, Comte. At least this is one thing we've been able to accomplish without fail." He managed a wan smile and bowed again, bidding Raoul a good night, and attempted to retreat into his room once more.

"I offer my services freely," Raoul spoke up, wanting to pay the debt he felt that he owed.

Erik paused, his right hand on the doorknob to his room.

Raoul cleared his throat and added, "I hope you would take that into consideration. If it was not for you and Monsieur Khan…"

"Tomorrow, de Chagny," he suggested quietly, before disappearing into his room.

Raoul sighed heavily and shook his head as he took his key from his pocket and unlocked the door. _"Tomorrow… Surely it will be an eventful one. For now, I wish to enjoy one night of peace." _He said a silent prayer for Nadir's safety as he entered the room and locked the door behind him.

**-XXX-**

To Guifford's surprise, he followed Raoul and Meg to The Crystal Orchid. _"I thought they were staying at The Tiger's Den?"_ He removed his bowler-style hat and scratched his bald head in confusion.

He watched as they disappeared into the building. _"I've got to get some sleep,"_ he yawned broadly, unable to keep his eyes open much longer.

After a few moments, he continued past The Crystal Orchid and a few buildings down to a small tavern, securing a room for the night.

* * *

_The setting sun, casting long shadows over his home in Persia, comforted Nadir. He felt at peace as he gazed out over his surroundings. Soon night would be complete, his favorite time. Perhaps he would look up Sadira and they could stroll together in the gardens, basking in the moonlight and each others company. _

"_Wouldn't that be glorious, my dear?"_

The image shattered as a large man backhanded him wickedly. He almost toppled over in the chair he was strapped to, but he felt strong arms balance him as another man quickly steadied it from behind. Inwardly he groaned as he realized where he was once more.

A prisoner.

"Welcome back to consciousness, my dear man!"

Out of his swollen eyes, Nadir could see Faraj reclining in a chair a few feet away. Two women were present also, one fanning him, and the other pouring him a glass of wine.

"I almost feared for your health there for a moment..."

Coughing weakly, Nadir managed to reply, "I thank you for your tender concerns for my well-being, but I am indeed fine." He leaned his head to the side and spat a mouthful of blood at the feet of the guard who had hit him. The eunuch looked meaningfully at his master, who waved it off, allowing the insult to pass.

Faraj grinned, his dark features glistening in the light of several torches lining the room. It was almost stiflingly hot, and despite the efforts of the woman beside him, the big man was sweating profusely. "Excellent. We have so much more to discuss."

"I live but to serve," Nadir replied grandly, allowing more than a trace of sarcasm to enter his weary voice.

Chuckling, Faraj nodded his head at the eunuch, who turned on the prisoner and delivered a punishing hit to the bound man's stomach. Nadir felt blood in his mouth once more, as his many injuries began to take a toll. His head was reeling, but he did not feel like he would faint again any time soon...unfortunately.

"Let's start over, shall we?" Faraj stated, sipping his wine and staring at the Persian intently. "Who are you and why have you come here?"

Returning the stare, Nadir remained silent. He braced himself for another strike, but was unprepared for the rope that was flung around his neck from the man behind. Gasping for breath, unable to move, the only sounds were his tortured attempts to breathe, as he felt himself descending back into the darkness. Abruptly, the rope was gone, and sweet air once more flooded his lungs. He inhaled as sharp as his pained body would allow, trying not to spasm over in coughing as he did so.

"I'm afraid I didn't hear that, my friend. Please be so kind as to repeat yourself. Who _are _you?" Faraj smiled, his eyes showing how pleased he was at the events before him.

Sweat running out his pores, blood dripping from several cuts along his battered face, Nadir laughed crazily, "I am no one… I am nothing… I am a friend of phantoms and an enemy of fools!" His eyes began to glaze over as he slumped down in the chair once more.

Faraj looked at the man curiously, wondering if the words were a riddle or delirious rantings induced by excessive pain. He turned to grab his wineglass and motioned for another fill, momentarily taking his eyes off of the prisoner.

With the men beside him thinking him unconscious once again, they relaxed their guard briefly. Unbeknownst to all, Nadir had managed to deftly untie the ropes and free his right hand from it's bindings.

As one of the eunuchs leaned down to check him, he lashed out, jamming his fingers expertly into the other man's throat. The man fell to his knees in agony, holding his neck where he had been struck, watching mutely as Nadir struggled to untie his other restraints.

The other eunuch however, was quicker to react. Once more, he slipped the rope over the Persian's head and began to pull. Nadir managed to get his other hand free, but they could not creep under the cord that was choking him.

With a roar, Faraj stood up and crossed the space between the men. Punching down hard, he watched as Nadir went completely limp and unconscious. He motioned for the rope to be removed and he lifted the Persian's face to meet his own. He was still alive, but not by much.

Faraj glanced at the eunuch behind the prisoner. "I think you choked him a little _too_ long that time, Hakim." Sighing, he turned to walk away. "Throw him back in his cell. Perhaps he'll be more forthcoming once he's '_quenched his thirst_.'"

Alhena tossed and turned in frustration, as she lay in her bed. _"Why did he have to look at me like that?"_ Playing repeatedly within her mind, she thought back on the stranger's eyes, the compassion within them, and the sincerity in which he presented himself. _"Why does he act as if he knows me?"_ She turned on her right side, her hands clinging around a gold and royal blue tapestry pillow. She closed her eyes, trying to free her mind to nothing else but sleep. A small tear escaped her right eye as she brushed it away and sighed. _"There's no other life for you than this. No one will want you beyond these walls, so stop these tears and accept what life has dealt you,"_ she reminded herself firmly.

* * *

Morning had come much too soon. Raoul yawned, attempting to stretch his arms above his head, but quickly realized his right arm was trapped underneath a mess of silken honey-kissed hair. He brought his left hand across her cheek, tracing it lovingly and smiled. _"My darling little Meg… my wife… I have you back."_ He closed his eyes and thanked God once again for her safe return and then his thoughts drifted to Nadir.

While he thought about the day before him, he felt Meg's hand gliding across his chest. He placed his hand over hers and brought it to meet his lips, kissing each finger tenderly.

"I've missed you, Raoul," she said softly as she smiled against him.

"You have no idea how much I've missed you, Meg," he admitted openly.

"I think I do, mon amour," she kissed his chest and crawled up to meet his face. She kissed his lips and then questioned, "How on earth did you get that bruise? Did they hurt you when you met with that beast?" She touched her hand tenderly to the side of his mouth.

"Non. It's a long story that's best left for another day," he sighed, changing the subject. "Christine will be excited to see you, little Meg," he announced happily.

"I can't wait to see her too! We will have to stop in Melun as soon as we get back to France."

Raoul laughed, "You will see her much _sooner_ than that, I assure you…"

"Raoul?"

"She rests just beyond us… next door with her husband."

"Le fantôme is here?" She said in surprise. "I mean... Erik?" She corrected herself.

"Oui. There is much that has happened while we've been apart."

She lay partially upon his chest as he detailed all the events of their journey. There was so much for her to process in such a short time. She was thankful Erik did not succeed in killing her husband over such a titanic misunderstanding. _"Christine will be a mother!"_ She thought in awe. _"I can't believe it!"_

Raoul could see the excitement behind his wife's eyes. "You must be genuinely surprised as I am," he beamed.

"Oh, Raoul, this is wonderful news!" She paused a moment and thought about the events of last night. Her joyful smile began to fade. "I'm so terrible for feeling so happy while Nadir is in the hands of that awful man."

"Erik and I will be able to recover Nadir. Don't feel guilty about being excited for Christine. It's the best thing to come out of this entire encounter." He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. "Come. Let's get dressed and meet with them. They will be expected us."

* * *

Alhena donned her robe, preparing to meet with the stranger that had haunted her dreams throughout the night. She had barely gotten any sleep and she didn't want to spend another restless night with her thoughts.

Her curiosity fueled her as she made her way downstairs and to the lower levels of the bath house. Removing a torch from the wall, she stepped down into the dankness of the cellar and walked to the end of the hall, stopping before a heavy iron enforced door. A small opening with an iron grill allowed her to peer inside.

Scanning the room she could see nothing but darkness. She held her torch up and could see a wooden barrel dangling from the ceiling in the middle of the room.

"Nice of you to visit with me, Mademoiselle Delacroix," a weary voice said within the darkness.

Nadir recalled her scent as she stood beyond the door. The mix of jasmine and orange blossoms was a sensory ambrosia to him.

Alhena was shocked by his address, as she tried to meet with the stranger face to face. "How…how did you…" she stuttered, trying to find the words. "No one outside these walls knows me by that name."

"I'll be honest with you. I hardly know much at all about you, but what little information I _do_ possess merits my reasons for being here."

"And what _reasons_ would that be? You couldn't possibly tell me anything that I don't already know." Her eyes narrowed cautiously.

"It's not my place to say for certain. I shall leave that… up to… your brother…" he coughed, trying to ease the dryness of his throat.

"What do you mean by my _brother_? You're _clearly_ unwell, for you see, I have no…"

"Alhena! What are you doing down here? I have not sent for you so early in the morning." Faraj walked toward her, the hall seemingly swallowing his imposing size. "You're not thinking of anything _foolish_, are you?" He eyed her suspiciously, "Such as freeing our _guest_…"

"I just needed to know you hadn't _killed_ him." She stood her ground with him, unafraid of his brass presumptions.

"_That_ may very well be the ultimate conclusion, my pet," he sneered, "but for now, he has some questions to answer first, and I have yet to fully _appreciate_ the circumstances that brought him here." He was pleased to hear the garbled sounds of his prisoner's coughs, taking his attention away from the woman before him momentarily.

The wicked smile plastered upon his face sickened Alhena. "You disgust me, Faraj." Her words were purposefully bold.

He brought his hard eyes down to meet hers, the warning behind them ever present before her. "Be a good girl and return to your room. I shall send for you _after_ we've spent some quality time with him."

Knowing a lashing would be imminent in her near future, she bowed resignedly and turned back toward her room. She hurried up the steps and closed the door behind her. Leaning her back against the door, she sighed in frustration. "_Damn you, Faraj! I've gained nothing but more questions."_ Once more she found herself thinking of Nadir's latest claim. _"Brother?"_ She snorted,_ "I had but one sibling and he died so long ago... I have no memories of him."_

Two guards came marching down the hall in unison, obviously headed to meet Faraj.

Alhena wrapped her robe around her as they passed, and fled backup the next flight of stairs to her room. She would speak to the stranger again, sooner than later. _"I will not rest until I know the truth."_

_

* * *

_

Raoul and Meg got dressed and headed next door to Erik and Christine's room. They knocked on the door, awaiting their welcome. As Christine opened the door she was immediately embraced by an ecstatic Meg.

"Oh, Christine! How I've missed you, mon ami! I can't believe you are here! I've heard the news. I am thrilled you're going to be a mother. This is wonderful! Wait until maman hears this!" Her words flew out of her mouth, not allowing her friend to get a word in edgewise.

"I am happy to see you too, Meg," Christine teased. "Come. We shall get some breakfast downstairs and bring something up for Raoul and my husband," she suggested, taking Meg's hand into hers.

"You won't… be long?" Raoul asked both girls, as he viewed Erik staring out of the window beyond them.

"Not at all… We'll be but a moment. Go on, Raoul. He's been expecting you," she assured him, placing an encouraging hand to his shoulder.

He nodded, stepping into the room and bowed to the ladies as the exited.

"Have a seat, Comte," Erik suggested, as he turned in his direction.

Raoul seated himself at the same table the three of them had sat at just the day before, "Merci," he said, as he stared at the empty seat across from him, which was once occupied by Nadir. His thoughts drifted to the Persian's well-being yet again.

"You look how I feel," Erik announced as joined Raoul at the table.

"Pardon?"

"Did you not get any sleep last night?"

"I did, but I seem to be suffering from a large and very persistent throbbing headache," he answered, rubbing at his temples.

Erik couldn't help but laugh silently, though now was not the time for mockery. He composed himself and began to discuss the events that led up to Nadir's imprisonment and suggested their course of action.

"You'll forgive me for being blunt, Monsieur, but should we not concentrate _solely_ on Nadir's recovery?"

"What is it that you're trying to spare me from, de Chagny?" His perception of the depths of Raoul's words incited him. "Out with it!"

"Your sister, if that _is_ her, did not strike me as someone in need of rescuing. In fact, she appears to be very capable of leaving on her own should she choose."

"She _is_ my sister and you should not speak of such things. There must be more to it than you or I could ever begin to speculate."

"I'm merely stating the obvious. I've seen her work first hand, something I care not to recall, but I can guarantee this. She is, without a doubt, a strong woman. If she wished it, she would not be there."

"What are you trying to say, Comte?" Erik rose from his chair slowly, his fists resting atop of the table.

"I fear your attachment is clouding your judgment. I'm sorry to say it, but I don't think she wants to be taken from her current situation."

"Regardless of your assumptions, she _will_ be removed from that place. I've made a promise to our mother and I will not fail her…" he came face to face with Raoul, "…not with this!"

Just then, Christine and Meg came into the room. Erik looked toward them and immediately stepped away from the table, turning to recover his position by the window.

"What's going on here?" Christine asked as she stepped into the room.

Raoul got up to help Meg with the tray of food as Christine walked over to her distraught husband.

She placed a tender hand to Erik's shoulder. "Angel?"

He bowed his head slightly, covering her hand with his own.

"Erik, look at me," she asked softly.

"Am I a fool, Christine?" He whispered.

"Erik?"

"Tell me I'm not foolish in wanting to bring my sister back to our mother."

"Of course not, mon amour. She doesn't belong in that dreadful place."

"But if she wishes to stay? What then? I've made a promise."

"When the time comes, you will know what is best. I know you will."

Erik took a deep breath, his demeanor unchanging before her, as he concentrated hard to the task ahead. "Meg will be keeping you company, while le Comte and I return to Kukawa."

"Erik?"

"This is not a request, mon ange. Meg will see to it that this time, you remain here."

Raoul and Meg looked at each other and then back over to Christine.

"You went to the bath house last night?" They both questioned.

Christine flushed in embarrassment, shame, and guilt. She lowered her head slightly, as Erik answered for her.

"She did, after I had _strictly_ forbade it." He looked to Meg and addressed her, "I pray you will not _fail_ me, Comtesse." His eyes bore into her soul.

The way he gazed at her made her feel faint. "I shall not," Meg agreed, diverting her eyes and bowing curtly.

"I dare say…" Raoul spoke up, "…how am I to explain my sudden return?"

"You've discussed the monetary matters with Monsieur Ajani last night, did you not?"

"I did."

"Then it's a matter of producing the funds," Erik said simply.

"I will _not_ give that man a single franc. I have no intentions of funding his operation."

"And you will not, Comte. It will only appear as such."

Intrigued, Raoul pressed forward. "Go on…"

"You will grant him access to your private account by signing a promissory note in the amount he requires."

"I thought this would not result in giving him access to my finances?"

"Indeed, it will not. The account you will provide our dubious friend with belongs to the Shah of Persia. I guarantee, the shah will delight in disemboweling this man if the authorities do not imprison him first," Erik snickered.

"I see," Raoul mused. _"I have yet to even uncover the depths of Erik's disturbingly genius mind."_ He made a mental note of not wanting to ever find out.

* * *

After Alhena left, he felt surprisingly better, all things considered. Her mere presence did something to him he could not explain. He could hear her voice now, arguing with someone in the hall, but he couldn't make out their words, nor could he see anything. The only light in his cell came from the torch lights, filtering in from a small window in the door. Certainly too small to be of much use in this predicament, but he made note of it regardless. Although tired and weak, he did not feel broken yet. Wondering what the new day would bring, he looked around his cell once more. There were odd scrape marks on the stone floor but that could have been from the removal of whatever furniture was in here previously. It was completely featureless except for a small drainage hole in the floor, and curiously, a small barrel suspended by chains, hanging down from a fixture in the ceiling. The heat of the room where he was beaten made him almost want to tear it down and consume its contents, but he had a sudden instinct that it would be most unwise to do so. Despite feeling parched, he decided to wait and see. He didn't have to be patient long however, as he heard footsteps outside his door.

"Good morning, my mysterious friend!" Faraj called out through the window, his voice sounding annoyingly merry.

"Is it morning already?" Nadir replied humorlessly.

"Indeed, indeed!" The big man answered, nodding. "I came to see if you were enjoying your new accommodations."

Looking around, Nadir considered the mostly empty room and remained silent.

"Oh, I know it may not look like much, but look at that. You've got in-door plumbing!" Faraj smiled wide, his eyes glancing at the hole in the floor. "Not only that, your own barrel of wine too! What more could a man want in his home away from home?"

"How truly you speak," Nadir scoffed. "You are too kind to this poor soul." He stood up, ignoring the pain from his injuries. He knew he had at least one broken rib. He could feel the pieces of it grinding together as he struggled to his feet.

Faraj watched the display. "Now," he cleared his throat dramatically, "there is something I must know, my friend. I encourage you be forthcoming, as lies will only make me angry," he advised Nadir, speaking as if scolding a child. "What is your relationship to le Comte?"

"What or who is a Comte?" Nadir gave him a puzzled look.

"Come now, don't be coy. Le Comte is my new business partner, newly arrived from France," he explained. "It's too much of a coincidence that _he_ and _you_ both arrive in my home on the same evening, albeit in different circumstances of course."

The Persian looked at his tattered middle-eastern clothing and carefully considered his own dark skin. "Do I _look_ like I consort with many Frenchmen?" He replied sarcastically.

Smirking, Faraj considered the man before him. "Perhaps not, but you've not given me any information at all… _yet…_ So what am I to do with you?"

"Release me?" Nadir offered with a feigned flair, knowing it would never happen.

"I wouldn't hold too much hope in that idea, my friend."

"I thought not." The Persian walked over to the barrel. "So tell me, what surprise awaits me in this barrel, O Lord of the House."

Faraj shrugged. "I didn't lie. It is indeed full of the finest wine in all the lands. You may drink of it to your hearts content."

Feeling weakness from his thirst and eyeing Faraj coldly, he decided there was not much to loose at this point. He placed his hand on the spigot of the barrel, which floated idly above him.

"Go on," Faraj insisted. "It truly is the most precious beverage you'll ever encounter."

Nadir ducked his head beneath the spout and pulled on the spigot for a quick moment. A cool liquid poured into his mouth and he paused a moment to discern the taste. It truly was as Faraj described. The most excellent wine he'd ever encountered. As he swallowed however, he heard a strange scraping noise coming from all around him. In the darkened room he couldn't readily identify the source.

"What was that?" Nadir asked, glancing around, finally staring back at Faraj through the window.

Faraj chuckled, "Nothing much. Old houses like these settle from time to time, you know."

His distrust evident, Nadir placed himself beneath the barrel once more and allowed himself a long, deep drink of the delicious liquid. Once again he heard a loud scraping noise all around him. With confusion evident, he looked to Faraj once more.

Smiling, Faraj backed away and grabbed a torch, holding it up to the window to illuminate the room. Nadir gasped as he realized finally what the grinding noise was. With each drink, the walls had closed on either side by several inches. Somehow the barrel and its contents were tied in with the room itself.

"I see you understand now, my _mysterious_ friend," Faraj grinned evilly. "The more you drink, the less the barrel will weigh. As the weight on the chains decreases, a complicated gear and pulley system senses it, and applies pressure on the outer doors, closing them inch by inch."

Nadir looked at the barrel in horror as Faraj continued. "Now, I know you're a strong man. You didn't give me the information I wanted as you took a beating that would have shattered lesser men. If _I_ cannot crack your protective shell, then eventually, and _most_ painfully, you will simply do it for me."

"Never!" Nadir replied fiercely.

Still smiling, Faraj peered in once more. "One last thing about your guest room," he began, "The pipes that carry the hot water to the baths pass above this room, and the furnace that heats them, is below it. This room gets _extremely_ hot..."

Nadir watched as the dark man walked away, hearing his ominous final words in the distance.

"...and when you get _hot_, you'll get _thirsty_…"

* * *

**Author's Note**  
Thanks for all the reviews! The "welcome back" wishes were most gracious. -bows- Have a great weekend everyone and see you all next week. -smiles- 


	20. Chapter 20

**CHAPTER 20**

The sun rose high above the Kukawa skies, a new day for one and all. Faraj paced the halls, wondering what else to do with the stranger in the dungeon. _"Killing him would be too easy of course, and the dead tell no secrets,"_ as his father once told him. Yet, he couldn't figure out what more he could do to the man without breaking him completely. His musings lasted for long minutes, until he glanced upon his surroundings and noticed he was outside the room of his 'Tigress.' His eyes lit up briefly, as he knocked gently at her door.

The door creaked open moments later, as Alhena answered, dressed in an azure silken robe. "Yes, Faraj?" She asked, raising her eyebrow at him in obvious irritation.

Smiling, he reached out to caress her hair, not noticing her body stiffening at his touch. "I just came to make sure you're alright, my dear."

"And?" She questioned, her eyes meeting his.

Faraj chuckled, his large frame taking up most of her doorway, "And? Can I not simply inquire upon your well-being?

Unamused by his subtleties, she replied, "I've never known you to be _simple_, so say what you must so that I may attend to the morning duties."

It was her vivaciousness that excited him. He was never quite sure how he wished to handle her. Beating her or taking her for his own, both aroused equal fervor within him. This day he would save his energies for his guest.

She could practically see his twisted mind process as his face displayed a wickedness form of childlike joy.

"I should not keep you from your house chores, _but_ since you asked so charmingly, I would ask what the stranger said to you the night he was taken from your quarters."

"Mostly just ramblings, my master," she lied, not wanting to give any indication of the strange things Nadir had said the night before. "He claimed to be part of a rival operation and he wanted to take me to work for them."

"I do not recall this _stranger _ever being present within my bath house and I _never_ forget a face," he mused thoughtfully.

"He must have been sent by someone who had," she thought quickly.

"In any case, you told him you were most happy here with our current _arrangement, _did you not?

Nodding, she responded, "I told him he was a fool and would be better off finding a willing goat or sheep for his amusements."

"Well done, my pet," he cupped her chin softly. "I want you on hand if he decides to reveal any more details of this supposed competition."

She clenched her fists and answered quietly, "As you wish."

"Excellent. The next time I have a chat with this rogue, I want you to take care of him and see to his wounds. I do not want him to leave us just yet," he grinned evilly and backed away. "In fact, why not go down there now and see to him. Perhaps his appreciation will loosen his tongue."

She knew very well of what he meant by 'his appreciation.' Once again, she was to use her body, a weapon Faraj would wield in his favor countless times. She sneered in displeasure as she watched him walk down the hall, humming to himself.

* * *

As Erik detailed his plan with Raoul, they hadn't realized they had let someone else in on their scheme to dupe Faraj. Beyond the door, listening device in hand, was none other than Guifford, eavesdropping intently. He was now fully aware, not only of their plans, but of the current prisoner's purpose within the bath house. It was an apparent fouled attempt to rescue this newest stranger's sister. 

"_So, Alhena has a brother_," he pocketed his device and made his way down the hall, "_I better return to Kukawa, before they do_," he thought, as he hurried down the stairs. He wiped his brow with a handkerchief, as he exited The Crystal Orchid, making his way to his mount.

**-XXX-**

Erik had thought he heard noises coming from the hall, but shrugged it off as other patrons merely coming to and from their rooms. He had more pressing matters to attend to, as he finalized their plans for the evening.

Viewing Raoul's thoughtful expression, Erik decided to address him. "Do you have further questions, Comte?"

"Non. I have heard all you've said and I shall follow through without fail," he assured him.

"Good. If all goes as planned, we should have no problems getting Nadir and my sister out of that place once and for all."

Raoul nodded in agreement.

Erik offered his hand to Raoul, shaking it firmly and concluding their arrangement. "Spend some time with your wife, as will I. Be ready just before sundown and I shall come for you when we are to leave."

* * *

Alhena made her way down the corridor, the key to Nadir's cell around her neck. It had been given to her by the eunuch who guarded the main entrance to the lower levels of Faraj's nefarious playrooms. 

She set the small bucket of clean water before his cell door and removed the bundle of implements from underneath her left arm, bringing it to rest beside the pail. She brought the key from around her neck and unlocked the door. Collecting her items once again, she entered the sweltering chamber, and closed the door behind her. She noted the room seemed much smaller than she had remembered the previous day.

"Come to put me out of my misery?" Nadir asked, his head rising stiffly to meet her.

"Do you always find conditions such as these as an opportune time to jest?" She countered as she approached him.

"Do you not fear me? He asked as she closed the gap between them.

"Are we to end every spoken word in a question?" She smirked as she placed the bucket and the bundle before his feet.

"Unaccompanied and alone in the cell of a dangerous man... how are you so sure that I will not take the opportunity to free myself by any means necessary?"

Alhena sighed at yet another question, and began to inspect his wounds. "You wouldn't get far even if you _did_ succeed in rendering me unconscious, _which_ is impossible I might add. You should not underestimate me simply because I am a woman," she advised. "But beside all I've said, the truest answer is you are incapable of doing so because of your weakened state." Kneeling before him, she unraveled the blanket at his feet and went over the contents within.

Sarcastically he replied, "Is it _that_ obvious?"

Rolling her eyes at the Persian, she grabbed some strips of cloth and rose up. "Another day and you _still_ admit nothing?" She asked, surprised at his stubborn refusal to talk. She pressed a bandage over an abrasion on his chest, wondering what information he had, that could possibly be worth his very life.

He watched her closely as she tended to him. "I've already told you the truth. I came here with your brother to rescue you from this place…" he paused a moment before deciding to confirm the rest of his sentence, "…at the behest of your mother, Amala.

She stiffened at the name she had not heard in so long, the name of her mother.

He could sense her sudden recognition as her movements about his wounds became more labored.

She scoffed at the notion. "My mother wants _nothing_ to do with me. She has not come for me, nor has she _bothered_ to seek me out."

"She is in hiding. You may not know this, but she had to fake her own death, lest she be a threat to Faraj and his operation," he told her. "Yet all this time she has longed for some way to release you and bring you home."

Not wanting to meet his eyes, she reached for a clean cloth and submerged it into the bucket. "Even if that _were_ true, I still find your story to be quite _flawed_ for I have no brother. He was killed when he was but a baby, in a fire many years ago." She rang the cloth out and turned him to reach his back. "Lies such as these will only serve to _anger_ me and my master."

Nadir sighed wistfully, "Ah yes, your _master_... the one who keeps you on hand at his beck and call, to service his friends at a moments notice."

She wiped at his back roughly. "Do not speak to me of what you can't possibly know. I am taken care of!" She proclaimed defiantly.

"Yes, I can see that," he smirked. "You were given to le Comte as a plaything, at Faraj's _merest_ gesture."

"Faraj takes care of me!" She exclaimed. "He feeds me and provides me with a place to sleep. Things could be far worse for a woman." As the dried blood disappeared into the cloth within her hand, she noticed older markings hidden underneath the newer ones. _"This stranger has had a history of violence, each scar probably holding a story of it's own._" She thought to herself.

"A _dog_ is given those same comforts by his owner," Nadir observed, the scorn in his voice evident. "Even a slave will break his back for those similar rewards, yet you _truly_ think you are special?"

Lost within the blatant truth of his words and pondering on how he had acquired the older markings upon his back, she tried to retort. "I... I have…" she began.

"You have _nothing_ but your pride and your body," he interrupted her. "When Faraj tires of you, he will dispose of you. It's that simple."

"You don't know... you _don't_ understand…" she stuttered, frustrated by being in such an interrogational position.

Tired of her blind ignorance, and wishing to rest, he asked her abruptly, "How many women have you seen here that were 'servicing their master' one day, and gone the next? How many went home to see family and friends and just happened to never come back?"

Alhena was silent. She had in fact, known several ladies of the house who had once been prominent amongst all the others, and who had supposedly gone on to other endeavors. She began to wonder if this stranger's words could in fact be true.

"Leave me!" He told her, resigned in his fate. "Let me rest so I can face the next session, your _master _has in store for me." He lowered himself to the floor and leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes in dismissal.

Backing away from him, she gathered her supplies and walked out of the cell door, lost in thought. She bumped into two heavily armed guards outside.

"What is the meaning of this?" She snapped.

"We've got orders from Faraj to move him to The Dance of Fools." One answered, stepping aside to allow her to pass.

She stepped back as the two men drew their weapons and walked into the room to retrieve the prisoner.

* * *

Upon his arrival to The Jeweled Moon, Guifford was led down the hall and to Faraj's private quarters. After the guard announced his return, he was allowed inside, the door closing behind him. The catch of the latch startled him as Faraj addressed him instantly. 

"So? You've _better_ have some news for me. I didn't send you into town to squander your time with loose women or engross yourself in food and drink."

Guifford thought carefully about what he was going to say. He removed his hat, gripping the rim nervously, as he stumbled for words.

"Come now... I know you to be very much the idiot savant, but do you mean to tell me that you've _lost _your ability to speak? Perhaps you've finally _succeeded _in swallowing your tongue during your meal at the trough?" Faraj snickered at the heavy man's expense.

The boisterous laughter rang in his ears mockingly as he answered. "There's not much to tell. Le Comte and his wife returned to The Tiger's Den to retire and in the morning, he had made plans to acquire the funds you've requested, before moving to better accommodations at The Crystal Orchid." Guifford could not believe what he was hearing himself say aloud.

"Not much to tell? You are an imbecile! _This_ is good news! With his income, our operation will thrive once more. You, my corpulent friend, shall be rewarded!"

Guifford bowed, intending to take his leave. He would not be able to stand another round of Faraj's humiliating name calling. If he let his anger take hold of him, he would surely end up dead within the colossal hands of his boss.

As he turned to open the door, Faraj called out, "You are to continue your watch on le Comte."

He furrowed his brow in confusion. "Monsieur?"

"You _heard_ me. Until the money is secured, he is _still_ not to be trusted."

"Very well," he bowed sharply and exited the room, wondering why he had kept the truth to himself. It was much too late to think about the repercussions now. The damage was already done and there was no way he would turn back now and reveal the absolute truth. _"I will just have to play the fool. Not that that is such a hard task, considering what everyone thinks of me," _he sighed.

* * *

With the sun finally sinking in the west, Erik and Raoul headed out once more toward Kukawa. They rode in silence, each considering what they had to do. Raoul needed to be convincing as he continued his deception and Erik had to find some way to free his dearest friend from captivity. _"And what will I do with my sister? If she truly is unwilling to leave and is a participant in Faraj's crimes, can I really go back to my mother and face her with that news?" _He wondered. 

They closed in on their destination and as before, Erik left Raoul's side before they were in sight of the huge structure. He would tether his horse and make his way on foot, taking concealment in the shadow of darkness.

Raoul rode up to the main doors and slid off his horse. He handed over the reins to one of the guards as another went inside to announce his arrival. Once more he was checked for weapons. However, he didn't bring any with him at Erik's behest.

Moments later, the doors opened wide and he was greeted by Faraj. "Comte!" He boomed. "It's so good to see you again… and so _soon_! Come in, come in!"

Raoul followed him as they walked to his study. Gesturing for his guest to take a seat, he did the same, easing his sizeable frame into the seat behind his desk.

"Let's get right down to business, shall we?" Raoul began. "Your henchmen didn't tell me to bring a large sum of money when they took my wife, so your deal has caught me somewhat unprepared." Leaning forward in his chair, he continued, "I was however able to draft and sign a promissory note this morning, guaranteeing the funds out of my private account. It has my seal already imprinted on it." He took a folded letter from his jacket and slid it across the table.

Nodding, Faraj understood the situation and considered the document. "This will be sufficient, Comte." He went over the strange stamp beside Raoul's initials. "This seal, it's foreign, is it not?"

"Naturally," he answered without missing a beat. "My personal account, that which is not tied into my family holdings, is one I keep to myself."

"That's rather odd for a man of your nature," Faraj commented, knowing him to be 'straitlaced' as Philippe often referred to him. "It will appear you have some _secrets_ of your own."

"As I said, my affairs outside of this, are mine alone."

"I can respect that, as long as this," he held up the note, "is all you claim it to be. I _trust _that there will be no problems when I attempt to have the funds withdrawn?"

"None at all… you will have access to all that you need," Raoul smiled and stood up to bow, _"And then some," _he thought. "Now, if there's nothing else?"

"Eager to leave so soon, Comte?" Faraj asked lightly, but a trace of suspicion had entered his voice.

Hanging his head in mock embarrassment, Raoul replied. "I'm more than a little flustered after last night's events. I'm not sure how much I had to drink, but I do remember a crazy man bursting in on me and my lady friend at a most indelicate moment."

Faraj laughed. "While your wife watched, no less."

Putting on a pained expression, Raoul smirked. "Yes, and believe me, it took hours to convince my wife to forgive me, despite my traveling halfway across the world for her sake. You would _think _she would've been more appreciative of my efforts and allow me to enjoy your 'gift.'"

"Who can know the mind of a woman, my young Comte," Faraj smiled. "I own many, and I never claim to know what goes on in their heads." Leaning forward, he leered, "I'm more concerned with what goes on inside their dresses."

"_What a filthy piece of scum,"_ Raoul thought as he forced a smile. "I couldn't agree more, Monsieur Ajani," he said cheerily and then continued, "Whatever _did _become of that madman?" He hoped he wasn't being too overtly concerned, yet he felt a strange and sickening bond happening between him and Faraj, enough so to encourage such a question.

"I'm glad you asked! You will be pleased to know he is currently a _guest_ in the underground portions of this house." Faraj grinned, putting an obscene emphasis on the word guest.

Raoul looked at him curiously. "I would have thought him killed outright."

"In due time... I have yet to get any information out of him."

"I assume you're using some _persuasive _means, to get him to talk?" He probed further, veiling his concern.

Faraj smiled wickedly, "Let's just say that my love for mechanical means of torture is only surpassed by the pleasure I take in using them on people," he stood up. "It cost me a fortune to have all my chambers built, but it's well worth its weight in gold when I get a chance to use them. Though, I have yet to use them all. No one ever seems to last beyond second trial," he announced with disappointment.

"How many rooms are there?" Raoul wondered aloud.

"Several," he boasted proudly, "Each one more punishing than the last." He crossed the space between them. "I assure you, the stranger _will_ talk. In fact…" a sudden epiphany took hold of him, "Take a walk with me, Comte."

The two men walked out of the study and down the hallway, making a left and walking down to an iron door. Faraj fumbled with his key a moment and finally opened it. A spiral staircase stood before them, and they both descended into the dimly lit room below.

They passed several doors before finally stopping in front of one with a strange dial on the wall beside it. "I was just about to explain the design of this room to our mysterious intruder when you arrived, Comte, but this way you can both listen at the same time," Faraj smiled wide. "You awake in there, my _unbreakable_ friend?"

Nadir, hearing the voices outside this new room, had managed to stand up, determined to die on his feet if Allah had decreed it was his time. "I'm grateful for the bigger room, Faraj. The other one was beginning to get a bit _cramped_," he said defiantly.

Faraj's cruel laughter came through the door. "Oh, you'll be going back there soon, but even in prison, the inmates are given some exercise time. _This_ will be yours."

The Persian once more looked around at the room. Despite being well lit by three torches high on the walls, it was completely featureless except for the floor. Unlike the other room, this floor was tiled in abstract designs. Each one was approximately two feet wide and the only thing that was uniform between them all was the gold circle in the middle of each tile, about four inches in diameter. "So am I to walk around and stretch then?"

"I'd advise running instead," Faraj chuckled at him and then looked at Raoul, who stared on in confusion. "There are one hundred tiles in that room, Comte. When I turn the dial here, a nasty surprise will come out of one tile at random. Every ten seconds thereafter, another will arise as the first one detracts. The only safe place in the room is the one tile that was previously activated. Our new friend will get his exercise tonight!"

Trying to keep the horror from showing on his face, Raoul asked. "And how long will this go on for?"

"Let's start with an hour for now and see how he does." Faraj reached out and turned the dial, "If he's real unlucky, we'll know right off." Both men peered into the cell, grateful for the light from the torches.

Nadir looked around him, trying to prepare for whatever may come. Without warning a long, shiny steel spike shot upward through the gold circle within one of the tiles a few feet ahead of him, hitting the ceiling in the merest instant. Had he been standing on it, it would have skewered him completely. Trying to remember Faraj's instructions to Raoul outside, he leapt forward at the exact instant it whooshed back down below. He heard a click as another spike shot up in the middle of the tile he had just been standing on.

If he hadn't moved...

"Well done!" Faraj clapped his hands. "I see you understand how it works. I shall return after your hour is up. Perhaps we can have a chat then… that is, _if_ you're feeling up to it," he snickered, and then wrapped his bulky arm around Raoul. "Come, Comte… let's leave this man to his exercises. I'll see you out."

Raoul looked in one last time and locked eyes with Nadir, trying to convey in a glance that he and Erik had not given up and would return for him.

* * *

After saying his goodbyes, Raoul made his way toward his mount, which was secured at the bottom of the hill at the end of the path. He glanced back casually, making sure he was no longer under the watchful eye of the door guards, and then dashed off to the side of the bath house, trying as best he could to adjust his eyes to the darkness. 

"Erik?" He whispered, turning his head left. "Erik?" He called to his right.

He moved further down toward the edge of a small embankment. "Erik?" He called again. As he turned to move on, he was face to face with whom he sought.

"de Chagny, your inability to be silent will get us both strung up!" He reproached.

Raoul ignored him. "Never mind that… we have a problem."

"Just one? That would be pleasant," Erik snarled in frustration. "I feel like I've peered in every window of this blasted place and have seen no sign of the Daroga. What news do you have?"

"Faraj is keeping Monsieur Khan below the bath house in an elaborate dungeon. He's obviously been beaten, but Faraj seems to be clueless as to what purpose he has for being here."

"Nadir would sooner _die _than to tell that man anything," Erik stated knowingly.

"I fear that will be inevitable if we don't free him soon. The entrance to the lower level was heavily guarded and I have no idea if there are any other entrances leading below. If there was, I didn't see one."

"Was there any sign of my sister?"

Raoul shook his head. "None, I'm afraid."

"She wasn't in her room when I looked through her balcony window."

"Perhaps she's elsewhere. There are parts of this bath house that even I haven't seen yet," Raoul referred to its massive size.

Sighing, Erik told him, "Return to The Crystal Orchid. I will remain here and inspect the premises further. There has to be another way in. A criminal never leaves himself just one way in or out. Trust me on this," he said with a smirk.

"Are you sure? I can…" Raoul hesitated in thought, wondering what was to be done now.

"Go!" Erik insisted. "Do not keep your wife waiting." He placed his hand on Raoul's shoulder firmly, "I do not wish to worry my own wife," he thought of her condition. "You are to tell Christine I will return before dawn."

**-XXX-**

On another balcony, high above them, Alhena had heard every word, as their voices traveled up to her. She peered over the edge, spotting both men as she remained cloaked within the cover of darkness. As Raoul fled, the other man looked up to the sky a moment, as if guessing the time. She caught a glimpse of his face, the moonlight reflecting off of the whiteness of a mask, before he disappeared into the shadows with a twirl of his cape.

* * *

**Author's Note**  
I would love to hear from those that have never reviewed before. Don't be shy lurkers. -_smiles_- I do respond to every review I receive as well as private messages. Just ask my regular reviewers. -_wink_- Love it or hate it, I'm doing my best to keep the story interesting and fresh. Some of you may find it hard to see these characters go from the Paris opera house to a completely different setting altogether. I can respect that. I just thought a change of scenery would be intriguing. It's been freeing to be able to branch these characters out more than from what we had seen on the big screen or in the books. Those that continue to support this story, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. You all shall be rewarded with a bit of a surprise from me when the story comes to an end, so hang in there. I promise it'll be neat. I think so anyway. -_Phantom kisses and twirly cape love to you all_- 


	21. Chapter 21

**Author's Note**  
I'm adding the A/N up here to let everyone know this chapter is very much a filler. I've got a friend in town who came out for my birthday and decided to stay until next week, so my writing time has been scarce. Hope you all can forgive me. -hugs-

**CHAPTER 21**

Although both women worried about their husbands being away for the evening, they tried their best to preoccupy their minds with chatter of returning home to France and Christine's impending childbirth.

The thought of becoming a mother was both thrilling, and yet frightening for Christine at the same time. There was no doubt in her mind that she was proud to carry this child and to give Erik a son or daughter. She hoped and prayed she would be a good mother. _"This baby shall be loved like no other,"_ she thought with a distant smile.

"Christine? Did you not hear me?" Meg asked, interrupting her thoughts.

Startled slightly, she replied, "I'm sorry, Meg. What did you say?"

"I was talking about the opera house in Italy."

"Which one? There are several."

"The Teatro di San Carlo. Maman was telling me the managers had lunch with several of their patrons," Meg explained.

Christine's mind wandered again to Erik and the baby within her womb, while Meg continued on about the opera house in Naples. She brought her hand to her stomach, envisioning her Angel holding their child for the very first time.

"Is something the matter, mon ami?" Meg questioned, noticing her friend's hand upon her belly. "Are you still hungry or are you feeling unwell?" She placed her hand upon Christine's forehead, checking for any signs of a fever.

"I do apologize, Meg," she rubbed her stomach tenderly. "I've heard what you've said, but I cannot help but think about my baby."

Meg's eyes lit up. "Oh Christine, it's so exciting! I can't wait until we return home and Maman hears of the news."

"Oui. Your mother will be pleased, especially for Erik," she smiled. "Since I've learned of my pregnancy, the baby is all I can think about now."

"Do you think it will be a boy or a girl?" Meg wondered.

"As long as it is healthy, that is my only concern." She took Meg's hand and inquired, "What about you and Raoul? Have you discussed having children?"

Meg blushed, not having thought that far ahead. After all, they were only newly married. "I'd love to give Raoul an heir, but honestly we haven't discussed it. Not yet, at least. I know he has a lot of responsibilities now that he's taken over Philippe's duties, but he also has his commitments to the Navy as well. I just…" she paused in thought, wondering what their future would bring.

"If there's one thing I know about Raoul, he's a very loving and dedicated man. Family means so much to him, Meg. He will want children," she answered knowingly.

"I know. I just don't want him to feel pressured in caring for me when he has other duties to uphold."

"Don't even think like that, Meg. He would drop everything to care for you and the baby."

"Well, it is something to think about when the time comes, but for now, we shouldn't worry about it. You are the one expecting," she winked.

Christine yawned, glancing over at the clock on the wall. It was nearing eleven o'clock and both men were still not back from Kukawa. "How long do you think they'll be away?"

"I don't think they will be returning anytime soon," Meg frowned.

"Perhaps we should try and get some sleep?" Christine suggested.

"I'll go get some blankets and a pillow from next door and sleep on the sofa." Meg attempted to get up from her seated position at the side of the bed.

Christine patted the space next to her. "There's plenty of room on this bed. I won't have you sleeping on that," she pointed at the sofa by the window.

"Are you sure?"

She thought back on the dormitories and all the times they had fallen asleep in her bed gossiping throughout the night. "It'll be just like how it was at the opera house," she smiled.

* * *

It was just past two in the morning when Raoul returned to The Crystal Orchid. He climbed the stairs wearily, making his way down the hall and toward his room. As he unlocked the door and stepped forward, he noticed the bed was made_. "Hmm, Meg must still be next door."_ He reached into his pocket and retrieved a second key that Erik had given him. _"I'll just peek in on them before I retire."_

Raoul went next door, unlocking it, and quietly stepped into the room. He viewed both girls from afar, sleeping contently. _"At least they were able to get some rest,"_ he thought, thinking they would still be up worrying about him and Erik. _"I do hope he's not in harm's way."_ He said a silent prayer for him, closing the door gently, as to not disturb the sleeping pair from their slumber.

He removed his jacket as he walked back into his room. _"I'll take advantage of what little sleep is left to me."_ It would be about four hours until daylight and hopefully Erik would return as promised. _"He'd better keep his word. I'd hate to have to worry Christine in her condition."_

_

* * *

_  
With but a few seconds to spare, Faraj arrived before the chamber he had left Nadir in, but an hour ago. He peered within the iron grate, to see what remained of his ill-favored guest.

In the far corner of the room lay a very exhausted Nadir, sprawled out across the tiles and trying to calm his excessively heavy breaths.

Faraj sneered at this man's good fortune and his exceptional way to defy death within his chambers that were specifically designed to end one's life. "I see you've managed to survive the hour that was given to you," he called out to the Persian.

Nadir raised himself up and into a sitting position. Grabbing hold of his upper left arm, he answered, "That was quite exhilarating. I'm feeling rather refreshed, thank you!" He managed a mocking salute.

Faraj noticed the blood seeping between Nadir's fingers and the droplets which stained about the tiles. "You don't fool me, stranger. I see that this chamber has managed to draw blood. Unfortunately, too little for my liking," he turned his head and called down toward the posted guards. "Seize him! And return him to The Temptress's Embrace!"

"Do not be so displeased, Faraj. I shall die… _someday_…" Nadir announced dramatically.

The guards entered the chamber and brought Nadir to his feet, dragging him toward the door. As they passed Faraj, he ordered them to hold the prisoner up before him. "Perhaps a long drink will loosen your tongue," he spat, looking into the Persian's eyes menacingly. He struck Nadir with a heavy handed fist, knocking him unconscious and then nodded his head for the guards to continue down the hall with him.

As Faraj watched his guards deposit Nadir's motionless form into his much smaller cell, he thought, _"Let's just see how you do in the next trial, my clever friend. I WILL get answers from you. There is no possible way for you to resist The Iron Cross."_

_

* * *

_  
Erik found himself before The Crystal Orchid, as the rays of the morning sun beamed out from the horizon in the east. He had returned, as promised and no worse for wear, though he had exhausted his mind of every conceivable option to free the Persian on the ride back into town. He found nothing beyond the outer walls of the bath house, as he circled the property numerous times. He swore he had not overlooked a thing. _"There has to be some way too get to him, short of having to kill every man within the household."_

As capable as Erik was, it would be a feat to accomplish such a task, even with the help of the young Comte. _"That is not an option though."_ He was to announce his decision of having Raoul take the girls back home to France immediately. _"This is a matter I must resolve on my own. I will not subject him or anyone else to bloodshed."_ He was used to such gruesome means, though many nights he would be haunted by the faces of the dead that perished at his hands. Such was the price of being a well-handled killer. His years in Persia had deadened his senses to murder and mayhem long ago. In fact, he was more than a little amused by death and the human body's capacity toward it. He often thought of it more from an analytical point of view.

His thoughts drifted to his sister and he considered her for a moment. _"Freeing her first would be beneficial. She very well may hold the key to the information I need to save Nadir." _If anyone knew of the inner workings of Faraj's bath house, he was sure Alhena did, but he also was aware that it would be impossible to save one without risking the other's safety. It would be done in one shot or not at all. Time was of the essence. With every passing moment, Nadir's life was in danger, but Erik refused to think of any other outcome but freeing his brother from his confines. _"Don't you dare give up on me, Daroga. Not while I still breathe. I shall have you out of there. This I swear before your great Allah!"_

Reaching the top floor, he strode down the hall. He stood before his room, going through his pockets for the key. Finally retrieving it, he opened the door with care and stepped in, seeing two forms upon the bed in the distance. If he didn't know better, he'd be quick to accuse Raoul of being in bed with his wife, but the flowing golden hair spread about the pillow beside the long chestnut curls of the second form told him otherwise. It was the very vision he had remembered in the dormitories of the opera house. He would spend hours watching them sleep, musing over the two beauties, but always being drawn to his angelic Christine.

He removed his boots by the door and draped his cape upon the back of one of the chairs at the table. He then removed his fedora, placing it onto the tabletop. Walking over to the window, he eased himself into the sofa, unable to suppress a sigh, as his entire frame relaxed.

Christine fluttered her eyelids open and spotted Erik across from her with his left arm resting against his forehead, his eyes closed. Deciding to go over to him, she slid out of bed.

Erik sensed she was near as he heard the brief ruffling of the covers. As she stood before him, he instantly reached out for her and scooped her into his lap. She let out a quick gasp of surprise, thinking he was asleep.

"Christine," he whispered, "you should not be out of bed, but I shall forgive you this once," he smiled lazily. He wanted to take comfort in her warmth, even if just for a moment to rid his mind from his worries.

"You're cold," her teeth chattered. "Did you just now return, mon amour?"

"Oui," he answered, as he kissed along the slight exposed section of skin at her right shoulder.

She rubbed at his right side, attempting to warm him. "And Nadir?"

"It was a long and unsuccessful night," he sighed. "Indulge me for but a moment, mon ange. I wish to only take solace within my wife's arms."

He nuzzled his face against her upper chest and snuggled her close as she wrapped her arms around him fully.

With Nadir still in the hands of Faraj, she knew that Erik's thoughts would be weighing heavy upon the safety of his oldest friend. Resting her chin upon his shoulder and running her hands along his back, all she could do was comfort him as he requested.

* * *

Alhena arose in the morning, still troubled by the stranger's words and the things she overheard between the Comte and his mysterious friend in the shadows outside. Part of her wanted to believe it was all true. That she could be free to leave this place and return to the life she knew before. But those thoughts were tempered with visions of an angry Faraj. She knew that he was capable of finding her and hurting those around her if she tried. Besides, the Persian was probably dead by now anyway, and her hopes of getting any more information would be gone. 

A knock on the door brought her from her thoughts. Throwing on a silken robe of the deepest red, she opened it to see a broadly grinning Faraj. "_Did the man ever sleep?" _She thought to herself.

"Good morning, my Tigress," he leered down at her, his eyes looking her slim frame up and down.

"It's much too early, Faraj. Do you need me for something?" She asked, immediately wishing she could take back the obvious entendre.

He laughed briefly, his deep voice rumbling. "Oh I need you for lots of things, my pretty, but for the moment, go see to our friend in the basement. I'm afraid his night has not been as restful as yours or mine."

"He still lives?" She asked incredulously.

"Until he tells me what I want to know or I run out of things to hurt him with," Faraj snickered sarcastically. "He's been remarkably stubborn. In different circumstances, I might even be tempted to hire him."

She gave him a look of pure disbelief as he continued.

"But I don't think he'd appreciate the process of becoming one of the Eunuchs… oh well," he remarked offhandedly.

"I'll attend to him at once then." She bowed and moved to shut the door on him.

Blocking the closing door with one large hand, Faraj leaned down close to her. "Do a good job, dear. I want him awake and alert for the next round of questioning. Perhaps then, you and I can both be free for more _pleasant_ activities."

"Yes Faraj, of course. I'll make sure you're taken care of... later…"

Satisfied, he stepped back and allowed her door to shut. He hummed off-key to himself, as he made his way to his master bedroom, deciding to get some sleep while the stranger was attended to.

As he lay down in bed, his thoughts drifted over the device he had in store next for the stranger in the basement. "_Oh yes, it'll be a fun day indeed!"_

_

* * *

_  
Hating himself, Nadir took a long drink from the barrel hanging in his room. The familiar scraping of the closing walls no longer unnerved him as he sat back down in the center. He'd made pretty good estimates of how much he could drink before the walls would be in a position to crush him, but with the walls barely six feet apart now, there was little margin for error. "_Or for any more wine at the moment."_

He had managed several hours of sleep after the last room fortunately, ironically thankful to Faraj for knocking him unconscious, thus sparing the pain in his arm from keeping him awake. It still throbbed dully however, and the makeshift bandage he had torn from his shirt and placed on it was sticky and mostly soaked through. He worried distantly about infection, but realized that if he lived long enough for it to be infected, it would be a miracle. Idly, he wondered at the time of day, having lost track with no sunlight to reference it by.

Hearing a key rattle in the door, he raised his head and watched Alhena enter. Once more she brought a bucket of clean water with her and her various implements of healing. The guards closed the door behind her, as she knelt wordlessly at his side and inspected the gash in his arm.

"No words today?" Nadir asked as she pulled his crude binding aside.

Reaching into the bundled sack, she grabbed a flask and poured some of the contents over the gash. He hissed in pain as the substance washed over his wound.

"What is that?" He asked.

"Just a mixture of salt and water, to clean the wound," she replied, wiping it dry and reaching for a needle and thread.

Feeling foolish, he allowed her to sew up the gash in his arm, trying not to wince while she did so. Minutes passed in silence as she worked. He wanted to talk to her, but he could see the internal struggle within her as she attended to his wound. Not wanting to tip the balance the wrong way, he waited for her to speak.

As she pulled the last loop tight, she yanked the needle free of the thread and stuck it back within the rest of the bundled items. She turned to look at him. "There... all better."

He looked around at his predicament. "Yes, fresh for another day of torture. I'm so grateful."

Noting his sarcasm, she replied hotly. "There is nothing I can do for you, Faraj is too strong."

"I've asked you for nothing, aside from believing why I came here. To take you home to your mother, and reunite you with your brother."

"Is he the man in the mask?" She asked quietly, her eyes searching his for any trace of falsehood.

He answered with a nod, "You've seen him then I take it?"

"Only from afar," she admitted. She paused momentarily, seeing the image of the dark stalker within her mind. It was the mask that held her curiosity. "Why does he wear the mask?" She wondered.

Nadir shrugged simply. "I could give you a hundred reasons and he would deny all of them. The story is best left for him to tell, but believe me, he is your long lost brother. Your denial of his possible existence mirrored his own shock at finding out he had a family out here in the Dark Continent."

"And you think he will come back to free you?" She asked

"I would do no less for him, if our fortunes were reversed."

"Why is that?"

He gave her a penetrating look. "Because that's what people do for those we care about. Once upon a time you may have known that, but I think you've forgotten being surrounded by nothing but scoundrels," he finished with a smirk.

She stared at the remarkable man before her, trapped within his gaze. "You've given me much to think on," she reached for the bucket of water she had not used, offering it to him. "Drink as much as you can. You will not last long by drinking from that," she pointed to the hanging barrel.

He smiled at her and then took several long swigs, as she stood up, prepared to depart. "Thank you for your kind touch, Alhena," he handed the bucket back to her, "It helps, believe me."

Without a word she banged on the door for the guards, who ushered her out of the room while making sure Nadir stayed away. Clutching the sack and bucket against her chest, she fled up the stairs towards her room.

* * *

Guifford made ready to depart. He didn't tail Raoul from the bath house last night, figuring nothing would be going on to observe aside from a sleeping couple. At the same time however, he made his preparations quietly. He didn't want to wake Ranier or the others and have them belittle him for not doing as ordered, and staying up all night watching an inn door. He put on his bowler hat and opened his door slowly, mindful of its squeaky hinge. 

Walking as softly as his portly frame would allow, he crept towards the front door, resuming his normal stride as he came in sight of the guards. Suddenly a pair of hands grabbed his arm and yanked him into a side room. He was surprised to see it was Faraj's favorite woman.

Unsure of her intentions but also not wanting to be caught alone with her he backed away. "Mademoiselle? We shouldn't be here like this. I don't want to take advantage of y..."

Alhena closed the distance between them and whispered. "It's not what you think, although I thank you for not acting on what you were thinking," she finished with a smile. She could see that her judgment of his character had been correct. He was not a mongrel like the rest of his companions.

His confusion evident, she continued. "I need you to do me a favor."

"Me? What can I do for you?" He asked, suddenly cautious.

"I know you're going to town to keep an eye out on the Comte for Faraj. I want you to deliver a note for him to the innkeeper. That's all. You can go about your business as normal, just do me this one favor."

"Is this going to get me into trouble?" Guifford asked, unable to believe that an open request would involve this much whispering and secrecy.

"Let's just say it's our little secret, my friend," she ran a tan finger up his arm, "And I'll be extremely grateful for it, if you so desire." She produced a folded note slowly from her bodice and slipped it into his front pocket.

Sweating nervously, he nodded. "That's not necessary, Mademoiselle. I'm glad to help."

"Again, tell no one about this. I know you're tired of the verbal abuse they've been heaping on you anyway. So you can do me this one small favor without involving the others can't you? Besides, we're both pawns in Faraj's games, but maybe the introduction of a few new players will make things more interesting."

"Pardon?" He asked, not understanding her reference.

"Never mind, go on and be safe. I shall see you soon." She motioned him towards the door. "Since it wouldn't do for us to be seen leaving the same room at the same time…"

She left the idea hanging long enough for him to catch on.

With a tip of his hat and a slight bow, he ducked out into the hallway and down toward the front door. If they'd seen him disappear and reappear, they gave no indication.

As he exited the house and made his way to the stables, he felt at his vest where the sealed letter lay. He was curious as to the contents, but he'd given his word. He would deliver it immediately to The Crystal Orchid.

* * *

**Author's Note x2**  
First off, boo to the document's manager not working. I would have had this story up sooner, but alas, FFN glitches ruined the day. -sighs- Anyway, thanks to everyone for being patient. Also, I really appreciate hearing from some of you that had never reviewed before. It really means a ton to me to know that you have been enjoying this story thus far. Thank you to each and every one of you, for taking the time to review. -bows- 


	22. Chapter 22

**CHAPTER 22**

With the first rays of light cascading into the room from the nearby window, Meg awoke, rubbing at her tired eyes. Noting she was alone in the bed, she looked around her, spotting Erik and Christine cuddled in a position that appeared quite uncomfortable upon the long sofa.

Pulling the covers from her body and bundling them within her arms, she got out of bed and walked over to the sleeping pair. Gingerly, she draped the blankets over the two and then placed a kiss onto Christine's forehead.

As she brushed a stray brown lock away from Christine's face, she heard a whisper.

"Merci, Madame," Erik threw his voice with expertise, as to not wake his sleeping Angel from her dreams.

His eyes remained closed and his body steady as Meg looked down at the couple. She nodded her head slightly and then made her way next door to be with her husband.

As Meg shut the door behind her, Erik cradled Christine within his arms, praying his legs would take him the few feet he needed to walk to bring her to the comforts of their bed. He swung his long legs off of the sofa and in one steady motion, brought himself to his feet.

Christine rubbed her cheek against his partially exposed chest and smiled.

Erik looked down at her, caught in the motherly glow of her face. She was ravishingly beautiful before him and had she not been sleeping, he would feel compelled to love her with his body. _"That is, if every bone in my body did not ache."_ That was the more likely excuse, considering his long trek back in the chill of night. He felt his lower back twinge, forcing him to grit his teeth and move forward, continuing toward the bed.

He placed her onto the bed and then removed his shirt and trousers. He was never much for being confined within his clothes when he rested. The only times he did wear anything to bed was when he was extremely tired and could not be bothered with undressing or the numerous times he had fallen asleep at his organ while composing for several long days at a time.

Sliding between the sheets, he snuggled himself against her, the entire length of his strong naked body resting against hers. He traced a finger along her right shoulder, moving down across the swell of her bosom, and delicately gliding across the middle of her stomach. Circling it tenderly through her silken chemise, he smiled. He closed his eyes and saw his child within his mind. He had several visions, rapid images that came to him as if being shuffled within a deck. The first was of a strong and strappingly handsome young man, a mix of features from both his parents, though undoubtedly his father's son. His raven black hair and towering height mimicked that of his father. And then came the visions of an enchantingly pure beauty, firelit eyes of green, and curls of dark caramel. Cut from her mother's likeness, but there was no doubt that she was daddy's little girl. The spark behind her jeweled eyes so much as proved it.

Christine began to giggle underneath his wandering touch, waking him from the faces of his children. They would have many and he would love each one as if it were the first born. She brought her hand over his, which was now resting steadily against her stomach. Thinking back on what Meg had asked her earlier. She decided the broach the question to her husband.

"A boy or a girl?" She asked simply, curious to know what he might foretell as he touched outside her womb so lovingly.

"I am not certain as to which will be first to grace us, but surely, he or she will not be the first," he answered truthfully. He wrapped his hands around her and sighed happily. "Boy or girl, we shall give this child a life that will be envied."

"You're going to spoil our babe to no end," she teased him.

"_I_ am going to spoil our child? Madame, I do believe _you_ will be the one coddling it." He growled at her playfully, rolling on top of her, and trapping her beneath his well-built frame. He was mindful of his weight upon her as he brought his lips down to meet hers, kissing her sweetly.

They spent a few stolen moments together, though neither one of them had Nadir far from their thoughts. The evening would prompt another trip to Kukawa and yet another night of worrying for Christine.

Leaving for France could not come any sooner for her. With every day that passed, she was riddled with anxiety for the safety of her husband. The comfort of his arms about her was fleeting, for it was but the proverbial calm before the storm, or so it seemed. Every moment they were parted, she would dread that feeling of emptiness, uncertainty, and loss. She knew very well that he was capable of handling himself in the most precarious situations, but she could not shake that sensation of losing him. She tried her best to cleanse her overactive imagination and to enjoy the time she had now with her Angel of Music.

"I love you, Erik," she spoke solemnly, looking up at him with a soft smile.

His eyes locked with hers, penetrating through her with unparalleled affection. "And I love you, Christine," his eyes softened to her devoted gaze, "Irrepressibly so," he sighed happily.

"Bring Nadir from that place tonight, Angel, please. Every time you leave I…" she paused, holding back the tears that would soon flood forth from within her eyes.

"I will do my best, but I cannot make any promises that I myself am unsure that I can keep, mon amour," he traced her cheek gently.

She clung to him suddenly, bringing him down against her, holding him tightly. She shut her eyes, not wanting to shed anymore tears of worry, about what may or may not come.

He had never known her to have such strength. It caught him off guard as she practically squeezed him mercilessly into her embrace. He cooed in her ear, words only shared between two lovers, as she gradually relaxed her hold. He caressed her long flowing locks as his words transcended within her mind. He bent her subconscious to his will, rendering her into a fitful sleep.

"Rest… _rest… _and clear your thoughts of everything… _everything… _but my love for you. No harm will come to me and soon… you will be home." He would tell her of his decision of sending her back to France without him, once Raoul and Meg were present as well. _"It's to guarantee her safety,"_ he told himself.

He brought the covers around them and once again took his position beside her. _"I will get up soon, but not just yet."_ He would take full advantage of this final moment alone with her. He watched her as she slept, going over every inch of her entrancing features with his eyes. It was the simplest moments such as these that he cherished immeasurably.

* * *

Meg had wanted to crawl into bed with her sleeping husband, but he was sprawled sideways across the king sized bed, as if he'd barely made it to bed at all. That was but one reason. In actuality she hadn't guessed him to be a snorer. "Perhaps he's just really tired," she mused, listening to the whimpering sounds he made while he slept. She giggled slightly, opting to take a bath and prepare for the day ahead instead. 

After her bath, she got dressed and made her way downstairs. She intended to gather some breakfast onto a tray, to take upstairs for her and her husband to share. As she walked by the main counter however, the proprietor called out to her, waving an envelope in his hand.

"This came for your husband moments ago," he said as she approached him.

Meg took the letter, turning it over in her hand as she inspected it. Raoul's name was inked in red across the front and nothing more. "Who delivered this?" She asked.

"A heavyset man… looked to be in his thirties I would say. He was very polite. He handed me the letter along with some coin and then tipped his hat to me as he left."

"And this was moments ago?" She asked looking toward the front doors anxiously.

"Yes, he just barely…" before he could finish, he watched her dash toward the main entrance.

Meg stepped out of The Crystal Orchid, her tiny dancer's feet bringing her down the pair of steps in haste. Looking to her right she scanned half a dozen people, none matching the description given to her by the proprietor. She had a strong suspicion of who it was, but she had to be sure. She turned her head to the left, spotting another small crowd of people. _"They must be headed toward the market square,"_ she thought, just before her eyes scanned further ahead and then she saw him.

She followed Guifford at a safe distance. They had traveled a few blocks before she witnessed him disappear into a small inn. She waited a few moments to see if he would reemerge, but he did not.

"_So… he is keeping watch over us,"_ she thought as she turned back toward The Crystal Orchid. She then remembered what she held in her right hand. _"This must be from that bastard, Faraj. What more could that vile excuse for a man want from us?" _She was tempted to open the letter as she walked toward her destination, but she did not want to intrude on Raoul's personal correspondence, regardless of who it was from.

Once she had returned, she gathered some food from the kitchen as she had planned and retreated to her room. Raoul was still asleep when she entered the room, tray in hand. She brought it to rest on the table and decided to prepare the items upon it. As she poured the steaming hot tea into their cups she glanced once again at the letter, resting beside the wooden tray. Curiosity finally overwhelmed her. She reached for it, resolving to take just one little peek at its contents.

"Meg? Is that fresh rolls I smell?" Raoul asked amidst a long yawn, stretching his arms over his head as he spoke.

Her back was to him as she tossed the letter abruptly onto the table. "Oui. I've brought us some breakfast," she answered.

"Let me freshen up and I shall join you, dearest." He got out of bed and disappeared promptly into the bathroom.

She heard the water running and picked up the letter once again. She took a sip from her teacup, still curious as to the contents which lay within. She hadn't realized the water had ceased beyond her and Raoul was now a few feet away, watching her stare intently at the envelope within her hands.

"Meg?" He questioned from afar, as he walked toward her.

Startled from her thoughts, she almost tipped her teacup over as she placed the letter back onto the table. "Oh, Raoul," she said flabbergasted.

"What is that?" He asked, drawing near. He looked upon the table and picked up the envelope, seeing his name in handwritten script. "Where did you get this?"

"It came recently. The proprietor handed it to me when I went downstairs."

Raoul tore open the envelope, but before he could unfold the letter, Meg coughed nervously, causing him to turn his attention toward her.

"There's something else," she added.

He wondered if there was more than just the letter that was delivered. "Are you keeping something from me?"

"The letter was delivered by Faraj's henchman, Guifford. I followed him a few blocks from here. He's staying at The Seven Veils," she announced.

"Meg, you should not have done such a thing! What if you had been taken from me again?" He scolded her, disappointed at such a reckless act on her part.

"I stayed at a safe distance. _Besides_," she added, "he was the only one that had been somewhat kind to me."

"That's _not _the point, Meg," he sighed. "Just promise me you won't do anything else that could jeopardize your safety like this. I didn't come all this way to lose you again to such foolhardy actions.

Meg lowered her head, ashamed for causing him distress. She knew he only had her best interest in mind and he had every right to speak to her in such a tone. "Forgive me, Raoul. I didn't mean to worry you," she replied timidly.

"Oh, Meg," he brought his arms around her in a tender embrace, "I'm just thankful no harm was done." She leaned her head against his shoulder and he continued, "Of course I forgive you. I love you."

"I love you too, Raoul. I promise not to be so irresponsible in the future."

"_I should have known Faraj would not let up so easily,"_ he thought as he held Meg close. _"Now to see what it is that he has sent me."_

"Shall we eat?" He suggested, his tone lighter now for her benefit.

Meg nodded her head against him and he released her, allowing her to return to her seat once more. He sat in the chair across from her and took a sip from his teacup before returning to the contents of the letter.

Unfolding it upon the table, he began to read.

_**Comte de Chagny,**_

_**I fear I have wronged you and your intentions when you first arrived. I judged you to be just another underling to Faraj's empire, and as sinister and corrupt as your brother had been in mind and spirit. Despite your lady's words and her attempts to dissuade me, at first I saw nothing but a power driven fool out to hurt his woman. Words cannot express my disgust at that type of belligerent abuse, but I digress.**_

**_Your Persian friend is being held deep in the basement of this bath house. He has thus far survived the tortures he's encountered, but I fear time is not on his side. If you have the courage to make one more attempt at his freedom, I will aid you as much as possible. You will only get one try, for I cannot risk exposing my willingness to assist __you, in fear of my own well-being. Therefore tonight, as the moon is rising, make your way half a mile to the west of the bath house. There you will find a dry riverbed, wandering through the valley. You will encounter a thicket of dense brush, dead no doubt, but still high enough to conceal a secret entrance to the lower levels of the house. No one knows of this place besides me. I only happened upon it by the barest chance. I kept the knowledge private should I ever need to sneak out, but my fears often overcame me. The tunnel will eventually lead to a hidden door, opening up into a hallway in the basement. There will be a night guard, a simpleton named Hador, who will likely be drunk by the time you arrive. Be aware of him regardless. He carries a horn, whose note can quickly arouse everyone in the house with one blast._**

_**I would advise coming alone, as one can travel more quietly than two, but I leave it to your discretion whether to inform your masked companion of this information. I will not call him my brother, despite the prisoner's insistence that it is so. Yet if he believes it to be true, I do not doubt that he will wish to help as well. If we are truly of one blood, then I will trust in his loyalty to his friends. **_

_**Regardless, tonight is your night. If you come, do not fail. If you do not come, then take your wife and my false brother out of this place and never look back. You will not like what you see, and you may ache for what you have lost.**_

_**-Alhena**_

Taking a bite from his roll and washing it down with a quick sip from his teacup, he stood up, looking to Meg.

"What is it, Raoul?"

"We must go next door at once." He walked over to the bed to retrieve his boots which lay forgotten beside it.

"What has happened? Is it Nadir? Is he…" she couldn't bear to finish the sentence aloud.

"No, he is still alive, but who can say when that may change." He placed the letter onto the bed as he put on his boots. "Though addressed to me, the information within this letter is meant for Erik's eyes more so." He recovered the letter from the bed, holding it up, "This requires his immediate attention."

* * *

Erik had fallen back asleep beside his Angel. It was not until his mind registered a repeated knock at the door, that he was eventually brought out from his slumber. 

Christine stirred slightly as he donned his shirt and trousers. Hearing yet another knock at the door, she remembered she had made plans for breakfast with Meg.

"It must be Meg," she said as she sat up and dragged her legs to the side of the bed.

"I'll get the door, mon ange. You go get dressed and I'll have Meg wait for you downstairs," he said tenderly.

As she fled to the bathroom, he walked over to the door and opened it. He was instantly confronted by Raoul, accompanied by Meg at his side.

"Christine will be but a moment and will join you downstairs for breakfast, Meg."

"Actually," Meg attempted, "I've already…"

"There is a tray of food prepared next door," Raoul interrupted her. "They can dine while we go over this." He held the envelope up, piquing Erik's interest.

"What news is this?" Erik inquired.

Raoul surrendered the letter solemnly. "It's best if you read it for yourself."

"Erik? Is it Nadir?" Christine asked, viewing the exchange between both men, as she stepped into the room from beyond the bathroom door.

"I'll need a moment to go over the contents of this letter, mon ange. In the meantime, why don't you and Meg go next door before your breakfast cools," he recommended.

While Christine and Meg were next door, Erik stood by the window, reading the letter in complete silence. Raoul awaited his response, watching him from his seated position at the table.

Erik began to pace the room slowly, considering every word that was written within the parchment. _"No wonder I could spot nothing. I just didn't go far enough."_ He cursed himself for he knew precisely of the location she spoke of. He himself had gone down into that dry riverbed numerous times. He'd had a feeling something was out there and it had frustrated him to no end as he rode back into town. He went over the letter again, thanking Nadir for getting through to his sister somewhat. There was no denying that the Persian was truly gifted when it came to his verbal eloquence. He could reach even the lowliest man if given enough time alone with him. Erik knew of this first hand after all. The only thing that troubled him at this point was Alhena's continued disbelief in him. He could not blame her for such pessimistic behavior though. He too, had not taken so readily to the facts of his entire being, let alone the family he had miraculously gained overnight. His life was no longer a mystery however, for it now read like a well-documented novel. _"She needs to be free of the prison she believes to be her only home. My sister deserves to know the truth and I shall be the one to tell her." _

Raoul observed him as he finally came to a stop and folded the letter carefully. Tapping his fingers rhythmically upon his lap, he waited for Erik to break the silence between them.

"de Chagny," he began, "Bring the girls here, if they have finished their breakfast and are ready to return. I wish not to speak further until they are present."

"Very well," Raoul replied, rising from his seat. He turned on his heel and made his way next door, to do as requested.

Cleaning himself up to be more presentable to his guests, Erik emerged from the bathroom as Raoul returned escorting Christine and his wife into the room.

"If you would all just take a seat wherever you wish, I shall say this but once and I fully expect your cooperation in what I am about to announce," he said, his voice stern, yet pleading.

They took to their seats, Raoul and Meg along the sofa by the window and Christine sat with anticipation at the foot of the bed.

All eyes were upon him now as he ran through the words in his mind a final time. "I do not say this lightly or in haste. I had given it much thought during my ride back from Kukawa, so do not think that the contents of this letter have anything to do with my decision."

Christine furrowed her brow in confusion. "Erik?"

"Christine, please," he brought up his right hand to silence her, "let me finish."

She practically dreaded what he was soon about to reveal. She knew that whatever it was, he was deathly serious, the sharpness of his tone left little to be desired.

Like a hammer coming down upon an anvil, he spoke. "Comte, you are to take your wife _and _Christine back to France without delay. I shall handle the rest of the task at hand alone." He knew he would meet some resistance and fully expected the inevitable outbursts that came forth almost immediately, as his final word was spoken.

"Now wait just a minute. I am indebted to Monsieur Khan and as eager as I am to return home, I will not, until his safety is insured. We leave for France together or not at all!" Raoul tried to plead his case, angered by Erik's quick dismissal of his services.

Almost simultaneously, Christine had chimed in alongside Raoul. "Erik, you _can't _send me home. Not without you. I won't leave! You can't make me go!"

Meg remained silent, watching the exchange between the three. She was never much for confrontations such as these. In fact, she hated them. The intensity of the emotion in the room smothered her, yet she continued to watch the debate, morbidly interested in the outcome.

"Christine, _please_! You _must _do this!" Erik demanded harshly.

Raoul came to Christine's defense. "No, she's right. I _refuse _to leave as well. Not without you and _certainly _not without Monsieur Khan!"

"Comte!" Erik's voice rose angrily. "You _will _do as I've asked or…"

"Or _what_, Monsieur…? You will be compelled to kill me? Have we not gone through this before? Why must you be so pigheaded?" Raoul challenged, his eyes gleaming. "Do you not see that this is a path you need not walk alone?"

Erik was enraged by Raoul's voice, full of both contempt and reason. It was bad enough he could barely tolerate the young Comte, but now he was left speechless and Nadir was not around this time to come to his defense. Yet his mind was set on one thing and one alone. He would get these three to France if he had to strap each one to a caravan himself.

"You cannot and will not sway my decision! You are all to leave for France at once!" He could not jeopardize their safety. He would not. "_Damn them all, they have to see the reasons for this_."

Christine knew it was virtually impossible to argue with him when he was this headstrong in his convictions. Tears began to wash over her flushed cheeks as she got to her feet. She ran past them, headed toward the bathroom. "I won't go! I _won't_!"

Erik grabbed her by the arm, spinning her to him. "You _will _go, Christine! That's final!" He roared. He hadn't realized the strength of the gripping hold he had on her upper right arm.

In her heightened state she slapped him across his masked face, "I hate you, Erik! I _hate _you! Let go of me! Let _go_!"

The sensitive skin beneath his mask began to tingle from the impact of her unexpected attack. His grip loosened, not because she had asked him to let her go, but because of the sting of the words she so easily chose to spew at him.

"Christine!" Meg called after her in alarm, as she watched her dearest friend flee.

Like a thousand daggers piercing through his heart, her final words tore through him unmercifully. It was the same pain he felt when he had seen her kissing Raoul upon the rooftop after Il Muto, like that of a white hot knife turning in his side as she ripped the mask free from his face during his production of Don Juan Triumphant, and the plague of despair he had felt when he thought she had returned to him after he allowed her to flee with Raoul, but it was only to return the ring, which was in fact not his to begin with.

Christine slammed the door and leaned her back against it as she slowly slumped to the ground. She brought her knees to her chest and wept uncontrollably. She was angry at him for asking, no, making her go. But even more so, she was disgusted at herself for what she had said with utmost finality. "Oh, Erik…" she wrapped her arms around her legs, her head resting against her knees, "…forgive me…please…I didn't mean it. I swear I didn't!" She sobbed, cursing herself relentlessly, and wishing she could take back what she had said to him.

Erik stood still, the shock of his Angel's words tearing open new wounds over those that he had thought fully healed.

Meg had seen enough. "Now see what you have done? She should not be under such stress in her delicate condition, Monsieur!"

Meg was angry yes, but more so she was disappointed with Erik. As she stood before him, her tiny frame trembling with rage. She never thought she'd be able to face him this way, let alone voice her grievances in front of the Opera Ghost. "She will give you a child, Monsieur Delacroix. And if there is _one _thing that should be first and foremost within that thick skull of yours, it should be them!" She turned away and stormed toward the bathroom, prepared to try and coax Christine out.

Some of Meg's words had registered within Erik's tormented mind, but it was Christine's vow of hatred that replayed over and over again.

Raoul shook his head. He had much more to say, but he believed Christine's words were more than enough to overshadow anything more he wished to add. He left Erik, who stood in place and had not moved and inch since he had let go of Christine.

Walking over to Meg he crouched down beside her. "We should go, Meg."

"But, Raoul…what about…"

"This is something they should settle alone, as husband and wife. It is none our business, little Meg," he informed her, running his hands lovingly through her golden hair.

"She is my friend. I won't leave her like this," Meg said stubbornly.

"She is my friend also, but this is something they must get through without us being here. Do you understand?" He looked to her, taking her hands within his, "Come. We will return shortly, but for now, please humor your husband." He stood up, pulling her to her feet.

He opened the door for her and they exited into the hall. With a backward glance, he saw Erik standing still in stunned silence. Shaking his head, he closed the door behind him and led his wife back to their room.

As the door shut, Erik's legs gave way from underneath him. He fell to his knees and began to weep silently. He covered his face within his hands and cursed his very existence. He loved Christine and never wanted to hurt her or cause her any pain. The whole reason why he had decided to send her back home was for her benefit._ "It was to keep her safe! Does she not know this? I would never…ever…" _He could not finish his words. He loved her so much yet she had hurt him terribly. Though he blamed himself for her outburst, he still could not forget her words to him. "Why, Christine? Why do you do this to me?" He continued to weep upon the floor, trying to free his mind of the echoes of hatred that rang so clearly, mirroring those words he had heard many times in his youth. The vision of being within the cage, the screams and laughter taunting him, was more than he could stand. He was humiliated and angered, but yet he wept, unable to calm the tide of emotions which tore at his soul.

He had not heard her leave the confines of the bathroom. Christine stood before him as he pounded his fists against his head, trying desperately to quiet the voices within.

She knelt beside him and placed a hand upon his shoulder, unsure of how he would react toward her. "Angel, I…"

He looked to her with disbelief, his eyes swollen and the exposed side of his face red. His tears glistened upon the left cheek as she looked at him so sorrowfully. She began to cry again, seeing his pained expression before her, the adoration he held for her within in his eyes, and the anguished love he had fought so hard to keep. He never wanted to feel this way, for loving her so much could also hurt him beyond all comprehension.

"Oh, Christine!" He called to her suddenly, wrapping his arms about her waist and nestling his head upon her lap. "I don't _ever _wish to harm you. I would sooner meet the devil than to cause you _any _pain. You must know that I care for you…that...I _love _you. I only wish to keep you from this…this…" he broke down again, unable to continue his words.

She removed his half mask carefully, and then caressed his marred cheek lovingly. "God in Heaven…." she managed between stuttered breaths, "…forgive me…. Erik…please!" Her tears washed over him as they cried within each others arms. She brought her cheek to rest against his devotedly. "I didn't mean…. You _must _know that…" She couldn't finish her words as well, but nevertheless she tried. "I love you... Erik! I could never hate…._never _hate…" she sucked in a breath, "…I _swear _I didn't mean it!" She managed before finally succumbing to her tears.

They sat upon the floor, holding each other for what seemed like and eternity. No more words were shared between them, but yet they had forgiven each other, finding one another again within the unspoken silence. Time was meaningless as the hurtful things that were said, were replaced with the pure love that they shared once more.

* * *

As the final signs of daylight began to diminish in the west, Faraj strode boldly down the marbled hallways, making his way to the door down to the basement. After this sweltering day, he couldn't wait to check on the inevitable demise of his prisoner. All during the day, as he worked with Sebastian and Jean to renew his contacts and further his position in the slave trade, his mind kept wandering down to his dungeon. No guard had come forth to declare the Persian's life had ended within The Temptress's Embrace however. He thought it impossible that anyone could last the day without slaking their thirst. 

Turning his key in the locked door, he descended into the darkness. The guards at the bottom of the stairs bowed as he came into their presence, yet he looked past them and continued down the hall to the stranger's room. Peering inside, he was shocked as he noted the walls had not moved a single inch since last night. His prisoner was resting comfortably along the far wall, arms folded as he slept.

"Guard…?" He asked the two behind him, trying to keep his voice steady. "_Why _is this man still alive? He should have been dead of thirst or _worse_, hours ago."

The voices in the hall awoke Nadir, his mind quickly focusing on their words. He kept his eyes closed to maintain the illusion of sleep, but waited for anything that might help his dire situation.

Looking at each other, one guard finally spoke up. "He's not moved at all since this morning, when your mistress left him".

Faraj noticed the other guard shifting nervously behind the first. "Speak!" He commanded.

Stammering under the gaze of his master, the second guard muttered, "Maybe the lady gave him something to drink and that's why he's not thirsty?"

Thinking fast, not wanting to give Faraj the opportunity to even consider the possibility of such a betrayal, Nadir called out, "Ah Faraj, so good of you to _grace _me with your presence again. I'd thought you'd _forgotten _all about me," he struggled to his feet, hoping his words were in time.

Turning away from the guards, Faraj peered inside the room, startled to see his prisoner standing tall inside. "Are you not _thirsty_ today, my friend?" he asked evilly.

"As a matter of fact I am, _but _I fear your barrel has run dry," Nadir replied, trying to keep his tone playful. "Perhaps you can _send _for another?"

"Impossible!" Faraj declared. "If the barrel were dry, you would be _dead _by now," he said evenly.

Managing an awkward pirouette, Nadir chuckled. "So _sorry _to disappoint you, but I fear I am very much alive. Thanks _awfully _for your concern though."

"Damn your insolence, stranger!" Faraj yelled at him and then immediately addressed his guards, "Get in there and bring him out! _Carefully,_ mind you…"

The two guards walked in, mindful of the narrowness of the walls. As one leveled his cutlass at Nadir, the other stood behind him, ready to skewer him at the first sign of any false move.

"Bring him here!" Faraj commanded. As Nadir was brought forth out of the room, he shoved the second guard back into the cell. "Check the barrel. Make sure it really _is_ empty."

The guard walked further into the room and reached up to grasp the barrel, attempting to move the contents around and see if it were true. "I can't tell, milord."

"Then pull the spout and see!" Faraj roared angrily.

Nervously, the guard reached up, wanting to only pull the spigot down for a fraction, to see if any liquid would come forth. Unfortunately, his hand slipped, and the remaining liquid poured freely before the startled man could recover his grasp. With a loud grinding noise, the walls quickly closed together, crushing both the barrel and the man in one swift motion. A short scream, and a sickening crunch, told Faraj that the trapped room did still work to perfection after all.

Fuming he turned on Nadir.

The Persian only shrugged his shoulders and returned the dark man's baleful gaze. "I'd get a refund if I were you, old boy."

Faraj's features twisted in anger. He pushed Nadir down to the floor, the guard behind him never taking his sword off of the prisoner.

"Take him to The Iron Cross!" Faraj sneered, following the pair down the hall. "Once he's strapped in, feel free to call upon anyone within the house who wishes to partake in tonight's _entertainment_," he smiled grandly.

* * *

Alhena once more gathered her items to take down into the lower levels of the bath house. She walked toward the dungeons, eager for time alone with the Persian once more. Although she was tending to his wounds, his words to her in some way had begun to heal the emotional scars within her as well. It had been so long since she had thought of any reality other than this one. While she continued to display her defiance, partially convinced that he was deluded in his beliefs, deep inside she cursed herself for allowing his words to fuel a small spark of hope within her. _"What would this mean for me, if his words were indeed genuine?" _She dared not think of it. She had resigned herself to this life. _"I must not dream of something I will never have," _she reminded herself sternly. She had spent endless days dwelling on a life other than this, which only made her bitterly distressed. She would not do that to herself. Not anymore. 

Several people scurried past her as she made her way down the stairs. Reaching out, she grabbed the arm of one and spun him around to face her. She recognized him as one of Faraj's menial worms.

"What is it, _whore_?" Ranier sneered at her, looking her up and down, "I'm too busy to pleasure you just now, but maybe _later_," he grinned shamelessly.

Shuddering in revulsion, she asked stiffly, "Where is everyone rushing to?"

The thin man tore his arm free and replied, "We're all going to look at Faraj's friend in the basement. _Apparently _he upset the boss, and he invited us all down to _play_." Ranier added a sick emphasis to the last word.

Her stunned silence was enough.

Turning from her, he rushed to follow the others toward the entrance to the basement.

Cursing the misfortune, she realized there would be no way to rescue the Persian anymore tonight. _"I must warn the Comte to stop his plans should he come tonight,"_ she thought, hurrying back to her room.

Slipping her dagger into a place of concealment on her body, she grabbed a brass beaded candle holder, securing her index finger within the small looped handle. She then hurried to a dimly lit corridor near the kitchens. With a twist of a wall sconce soon after, she slid into a pitch black tunnel, hurrying to close the secret door behind her. Satisfied, she lit the candle and began walking the dark passage.

* * *

Raoul and Meg had met with Erik and Christine several long hours after their heated exchange had occurred. Erik apologized to the couple and once again to Christine, deciding that he would submit to their requests to stay. He swore to be free of the Dark Continent within days anyway, _"Hopefully this very night, once I recover Nadir,"_ he vowed. 

Raoul insisted he accompany Erik to Kukawa, but after much debating, the Comte complied with his wishes to journey alone. He would stay behind to watch over Meg and Christine this night, while Erik met with his sister for the first time.

After the fact, he realized he had completely forgotten to tell Erik about Guifford, who was staying just a few blocks away from their location. It was not until Meg had asked him about it that he remembered what he had so carelessly overlooked. It was no matter. He knew that Guifford was sent to watch over him and not Erik. Being that he had stayed behind with the girls, there was no doubt in his mind that Erik would be safe from any possible exposure on Guifford's part. _"Not while I'm still here in town, anyway,"_ he noted, just before concluding, _"Alhena would not have given him such a letter, if she did not trust this man in some way or another."_ He just hoped that he was right in this particular instance.

In any case, he would tell Erik about him when he returned. _"I sincerely hope he remains rational, as opposed to his usual desire of wanting to strangle me to no end," _he sighed wistfully.

* * *

As daylight gave way to the night sky, Erik traveled toward the bath house upon the back of his faithful steed, Atreus. He thought about meeting his twin sibling for the first time. He was uncertain of what would be said between them, but there was a least one thing they shared apparently, concern for the Daroga. He urged the Arabian forward, the light of the dawning moon guiding them onward. 

Nearing the bath house, he rode past it to the west. Finding the riverbed, he maneuvered his mount along the banks, almost instantly spotting the thicket of which his sister spoke of, up ahead in the distance. As he drew near, he brought Atreus to a slow trot and then steadied him before the great wall of dense brush. Dismounting his horse, he secured him to a piece of deadwood, heavy enough that even he could not lift, and then he made his way through carefully.

He pushed through the brush, although it had snagged his cape and pierced his skin countless times, he continued on toward the entrance of the passage. Once inside, he walked the long dank corridor. It was completely dark, save for the faintest flicker of light in the distance. He was accustomed to the darkness so he had no problems seeing where he would end up eventually, "_Though even a monkey could walk through this_," he thought, considering it was a straight distance, unlike the many twists and turns of the opera house cellars.

He was about halfway in, at a guess, when it happened. Within the blink of an eye, she leveled her dagger to his throat from behind him and spoke.

"So, you are the one who claims to be my dead brother? I had expected someone…_wiser_," she chided him, referring to his inability to notice she was even there.

"Oh, but you see, I had expected this. I knew you were behind me even before you engaged me in such a fashion," he said evenly.

"Impossible! I would not have _this_," she brought the dagger closer, against his neck, "at your throat, had you known!"

The darkness hid his smile. "This is all part of the game, is it not? Now, let me see, this is where I…" he jabbed a finger into the side of her arm, causing a sudden pain to shoot through her hand, instantly making her lose her grip on her dagger. He then grabbed her arm and spun around to face her all in one quick motion, "The tables are turned," he concluded.

Alhena struggled before him as they came face to face for the first time, his piercing white mask so clearly dominant upon his face. "You _plan _to hurt me now?" She snorted, unamused.

"I have the advantage," he replied confidently.

She raised her eyebrow at him. "Do you?" She brought her leg behind his and pushed forward with her arms, knocking him off of his feet.

His grip remained firm as she came tumbling with him to the ground. Now she was partially atop him, straddled awkwardly upon his right leg.

Erik laughed, "Is _this _what you call having an _advantage _over me? I do believe…" before he could finish his sentenced she kneed him in the groin and he released his hold on her. He brought both hands between his legs as he let out a long drawn out groan.

Alhena recovered her dagger and was immediately facing him again. "As you were saying," she laughed, "I do believe _I _am the one with the _true _advantage, dear _brother_!" She spat the sentiment mockingly. "If that's who you _truly_ are…I have my reservations. No one of _my_ blood would be so unprepared, let alone be taken by a woman," she snickered.

Erik coughed a bit before he slowly began to laugh and regained his feet. "Touché. Perhaps a _demonstration _is in order," he said simultaneously as he threw a form of powder before him. It ignited an instant flash of bright light, followed by thick smoke.

Alhena coughed this time, her vision instantly blocked as she tried to regain her sight. As the smoke cleared, she looked around her and he was gone. She ran down the corridor after him, guessing he had moved ahead, toward the bath house entrance.

Within eyesight of the secret door, Erik whipped his Punjab lasso around her neck and she instantly froze in place. He pulled on the slack, reeling her in slowly as to not add too much pressure around her neck. She walked backwards to him, to his surprise without much resistance.

"Very _clever_," she said in a foreboding whisper as he pulled her in. "But, I shall _not_ call you brother yet!" She brought her right hand behind her from above and cut at his lasso in one quick thrust, the sharpness of the blade tearing through with ease. She then turned to face him with a wicked grin, dagger in hand before her. "You will never encounter the likes of me!" She growled. "Now, I do believe the floor is mine!"

Erik shook his head and sighed. She was indeed good, worthy of sparring, _"Certainly self taught…but there is much more room for improvement," _he observed. "Say what you will, for I have no time for this, Alhena. You _did _send for aid, did you not? If you have nothing better to do than to _waste _my time, I feel I should remind you that the Persian is in need of my assistance and his time _cannot _be ill-wasted."

"You _dare_ force my hand? No doubt your concern for that man in the cells above us is great, but you speak to me as if I should _trust_ you?" She glared. "Surely you do not think me a fool to lay all of my hopes on the offhanded chance that you are my brother that has long since been dead!" In anger she flung her dagger at him, fully intending to strike him down.

Erik had anticipated her move and swept his cape up before him, the heavy material catching the blade and sending it clattering against the corridor wall and to the floor harmlessly. "My skills, as you can see, are well _beyond _yours. A lesser man, or woman in your case, would be dead at my feet long ago. I _am_ your brother and I have been to see our mother who longs to be reunited with you. I grow tired of these games, _sister_. Permit me to pass or I shall have no choice but to tie you up and strap you beside my horse outside."

Having no alternative left to her, she made a grab for her dagger upon the floor, but Erik was much too quick. With the flick of his wrist his cape whooshed in front of her, as he bent low and retrieved the dagger with ease. Returning the favor she so kindly bestowed upon him, he brought the dagger to her neck as they both rose slowly from their crouched positions.

"You _claim _to have been with our mother?" She scrutinized.

"I have," he answered, without hesitation.

"Answer me _this_ then. For every day I can remember, she often played her flute for me. I could never fall asleep without her playing a particular song. If you _indeed_ have been with my mother, then I shall not doubt you… _if_ you can tell me the name of that song."

He raised a quizzical brow at her momentarily, before he began to answer. "I cannot. I…" he was abruptly cut off.

"You disappoint me then!" She said in disgust. "Though, I'm not surprised in the least. It's _exactly_ as I thought an imposter would be."

"You didn't let me _finish_," he said curtly. "I cannot tell you the name because she simply told me it was an old Moroccan melody which praises the moon."

She hesitated. His answer was slightly believable, but sadly it was not the answer she was looking for. "That's not _good_ enough, I'm afraid. You see…" this time, she was interrupted.

"I must commend you on your attempt to entrap me with this _trick _question, for you see, I know for a fact that it _is_ just that," he grinned. "Our mother does not play the flute," he recalled, knowing he had not seen such an instrument within her belongings, "She played for me upon her Otar, and expertly so," he added. "And I, being _extremely _well versed in the musical arts, know without question that skills such as she possessed are _not_ something that one obtains overnight," he enlightened her with an air of cockiness. "No doubt that _this_ was the instrument on which she played for you." He remembered that the Otar was magnificent, but had shown it's age and use of being handled over many years.

The look on her face assured him that he now had her where he wanted.

Silence separated them for a brief moment, before Alhena was about to speak. Though suddenly in the distance, faint wails could be heard, each one bearing their own gruesome tone.

Immediately, brother and sister looked into each other's eyes.

"I have tarried much too long!" Erik was upset with himself for allowing her to delay him longer than it was necessary. "I do believe I've passed your test and now… I _must_ go," he announced.

Alhena gripped the sides of his shoulders and said, "It's too late…brother," she said hesitantly, struggling with the words but finally in reluctant acceptance of them. "I am to blame for this," she cursed.

"I can _free _him," he assured her. "Let me be and I can…"

"Listen to me now. There is no possible way to free him from the chamber he is currently in, _trust _me. He will be surrounded by Faraj's people by now. While I don't doubt you are skilled with that blade at your side," she looked down briefly at his skull sword, "the odds are _too_ great. If there _were _another alternative, I would tell you. All we can do is pray that he survives this night and I will attend to him as best I can."

"There's _always _a way," he argued, "You are mistaken. I _know_ I can get to him."

"Of course you can, _but _coming out alive would be next to impossible. The grounds may not always be well guarded, but I assure you, the soldiers inside are innumerable."

"What would you have me do then? I cannot stand here and do nothing!"

More cries from above came, shouts of crude laughter and evil pleasure this time, only exasperating Erik further.

"I owe that man my life! He is like my brother and I would gladly take his place if I could!"

"Save your anger, brother. You will have your moment to unleash Hell's fury, as will I," she added malevolently, "but _not _this night. Return in three days time, in which the Persian will be moved for a day of reprieve. This will be your final chance, for if he is not taken on the third night, there is no return from his final trial."

"Who is to say he will not die now or before the dawn of the third day?"

"Faraj has taken a morbid fascination to his stubbornness, which he gladly tests with his various rooms of torture. He will not die this night and I will make sure he does not before the third day."

Erik was hesitant, not wanting to count on her word alone to save Nadir. He had to know with certainty that he would survive until he returned. Reaching to his side he pulled a small vial from his belt.

"Take this and see to it that he takes but one drop upon his tongue." He handed her the vial and she took it, peering at it cautiously. "Remember, _one_ drop, no more, or it _will_ kill him."

"What is it?" She asked curiously.

"A mixture of various herbs, crushed into a paste, and distilled into a liquid," he answered smartly. "It will rid him of any pain as well as dull his senses to any further torture that is inflicted upon him, but yet he will remain quite lucid. This I guarantee."

"So you've used this on yourself?" She questioned, wondering at the potency.

"More times than I can recall," he admitted ruefully, "But never mind that. There will be much more time to discuss the fine arts of herbal alchemy with you, but for now, do as I say and be ready when I return."

**-XXX-**

Nadir was forced into yet another dark room, featureless except for a standing structure, man height, in the shape of a massive 'T.' Not liking the ominous look of the contraption, he lashed out at the guard with a roundhouse punch, hoping to take him off guard. His hand however, was caught by one meaty fist of Faraj.

"I admire your courage, my friend. Yet you're more foolish than brave in this, _my _world." Faraj sneered and leveled a stiff forward punch at him, causing Nadir to crumple to the floor weakly.

Semi-conscious, Nadir felt himself being hoisted up, and placed into the device. His outstretched arms were fed through a loop of rope on either side and secured into place. Eyes blurry, he watched as a matching apparatus descend from the ceiling, settling finally directly in front of him. A chill ran up his spine as he realized that what he was being placed inside of was essentially a steel coffin.

As the guard pushed the front forward around him, Nadir could hear the click of latches fastening as the two sides were brought together, and he was rendered totally immobile. Hands outstretched, and head wedged in place, he could not move a single inch. Oddly, he noted that he was able to see out of many small holes along his field of vision.

"Go get the tools," Faraj instructed the guard, once he was satisfied that his prisoner was secure.

The guard rushed out and soon returned, wheeling in a cart with a covered tray atop it.

Nodding, the big man continued. "Now, go and fetch Rahim. He knows this device better than anyone."

Nadir slowly returned to full awareness and tugged on his bonds to no effect. He kicked forward, the scant inch that this prison allowed, but there was no give.

"I _hear_ you," Faraj smiled at the futile attempts of his guest. "If I were you, I'd save your strength…" he paused ominously, "…for _screaming!_"

"What is this cursed thing, Faraj?" Nadir asked bitterly, resigned to the fact that he was completely hindered.

Faraj was more than happy to explain how The Iron Cross came about, as he replied, "I've spent years studying the various religions and beliefs of people around the world." He stepped out of the room, still talking, "And _every _faith has some dramatic _event _to base a belief system around." He stepped back into Nadir's sight carrying a lit torch from the hall. "And while some are more impressive than others, they can all serve to _inspire _an individual," he concluded, walking around the room to light several high mounted torches.

"I don't understand," Nadir said cautiously, watching as several men filtered into the room, obviously off-duty guards and other members of the household. His limited vision also allowed him to see Sebastian, Jean and Ranier enter, looking around with twisted grins.

Returning to the front, Faraj smiled wide. "I'll give you an example. In Europe they believe that a particular man, crucified before thousands, was the son of God. And in the moment of his death, he atoned for the sins of all mankind. He died on a wooden cross, supposedly arising three days later." Striding forward, to stand a few inches away from the metallic shell in front of Nadir, he snarled. "_You _on the other hand, after three days, have only just _begun _to atone for your sins _against _me."

"You're truly mad!" Nadir gasped, trying to understand this dark fiend's state of mind.

"Your cross to bear, so to speak, is that you didn't tell me what I wanted to know." Faraj turned his back and hung his head thoughtfully. "Truthfully? I no longer _care _who you are, or _why _you came here. I just want your _suffering _to be as divine as that of the man I read about." He reached out and pulled the cover off of the tray at his side.

Nadir could make out the glint of the torchlight along several long needles on its surface.

Chuckling, Faraj held one up for consideration, several inches long and brutally thick.

Just then, a sickly looking older man, mostly bald with thin wisps of hair sprayed out on his head, stepped in front of the gathering crowd.

Nodding to him, Faraj backed out of the cell. "Have fun men!" He said cordially to his followers.

Watching the thin man grab a needle and approach the cross, Faraj called out one last time. "Just think, my friend. If _you _arise again in three days, maybe someone will write a book about you too!" He exclaimed merrily, before closing the door.

* * *

**Author's Note**  
This is officially the longest chapter I've ever written. I hope you all enjoyed it. I know, I don't like what's happening to Nadir either, but Faraj is one sick and twisted individual. I hope the religious undertones did not offend any of my readers. These are character portrayals, not true to life views of my own. Feel free to throw stones if you must. But I felt this was a pretty decent update as you can tell by its length. Erik and Alhena finally met! Hopefully it was how everyone imagined it would be. Thank you all for sticking with me through these harsh Nadir/Faraj moments, but believe me, it is a necessity. I suppose this all could have been Erik going through this, but **a)** that wouldn't be too believable for our beloved Erik and **b)** you all would string me up by the rafters if I had done so… I'm kidding! You know I love each and every one of you. See you all next Friday and just a bit of random news from me: I'm headed to Glasgow, Scotland in July of **2007** for the Official Gerry Convention! I know it's a year away, but I'm so excited! My ticket is in the mail, baby! YAY! 


	23. Chapter 23

**Author's Note**  
I apologize for the late update. I've been sick the majority of the week so I needed the weekend for some recovery time. Needless to say I'm feeling better, thankfully. I hope everyone enjoyed this one. Since my brain was fried during my illness, I'd like to thank my editor (my boyfriend) for helping write the majority of this update (thank God he actually keeps up with this story). -smiles- Also, look for a Sunday or Monday update for Chapter 24. My oldest sister's birthday is this Friday, hence I will not be able to update then. I expect the next installment to be another long read, so I'll need time to edit through accordingly. There's a lot more to come, so stay tuned! Oh, and I forgot to mention on the last time around, if any of my readers have MySpace, I'd love to add you to my friend's list. Just let me know via PM or with your review. -Erik kisses to All-

**CHAPTER 23**

Nadir had lost track of the time. The faces before him had changed, he'd noticed, but how long each one had been there before leaving was impossible to guess. Any attempt to focus on it was shattered with each needle that slid through one of the myriad of tiny holes in the coffin, and into his skin. Some men were content to stand in the back and mock him, laughing at the pained noises that escaped his lips, despite his best efforts to remain silent. Others lingered, grabbing several of the long needles and sliding them into various places until they pierced his flesh. There were others behind him too. He could feel the occasional jab from the rear, yet he had no way to see anything except what was before his eyes. "_Thank Allah they have left my eyes alone," _he thought to himself ruefully.

A large man, obviously one of Faraj's eunuchs, approached slowly, holding a long needle at the ready. Standing before the coffin he inserted it into a hole in the middle. Nadir could only see his face, twisted in a devilish smile, before feeling the prick of the sharpened metal against gut. He relished the moment as he felt it encounter the resistance of the prisoner's skin. Finally piercing through the flesh, he pushed the needle forward, sliding into the soft tissue within.

As yet another needle was thrust through the coffin and into the thick muscle of his right thigh, he stifled a groan, hoping his resolve would outlast their perverse amusement. If he lived through this, he envisioned Alhena tending to his wounds again. The thought of her beauty and tender touch brought a smile to his face, despite the sharp pains spreading out all over his body. It was a faint hope, to be sure, but it was all he had to cling on to. He was fortunate in one respect however. He couldn't see the hundreds of needles sticking out from all sides of the coffin. Or see the blood that was dripping down the length of those metal shards, falling into pools around the base of his iron confinement.

"I don't know whether you're brave or simply too stupid to feel pain," Sebastien said, calmly stepping forward and jabbing another needle through the coffin and into Nadir's forearm. "Come on, you ignorant savage. Scream for us!" He sneered.

With no sound coming from within, he ran his hand through his hair and stepped back in frustration. "Well this is no fun. Let's go, Jean," he ordered, brushing people aside as he walked from the cell.

Wrapped up in his own amusements, Sebastien hadn't noticed that his subordinate hadn't lifted a single needle. Jean had simply watched in silent fascination as the prisoner in the coffin took his punishment stoically. He almost admired the man.

Ranier turned to follow them, but grabbed one last needle and plunged it home directly into the center of the structure.

Nadir moaned aloud uncontrollably as it pierced his skin and scraped along his sternum. Ranier smiled evilly and swiftly went off after his companions.

After a time, the others began to bore of the entertainment as well, and filtered out of the room a few at a time.

Nadir noted with grim satisfaction that there were still many more needles that could have been used, but thankfully still remained on the tray. Perhaps he would live through this after all.

* * *

Looking up from his ledgers, Faraj glanced at an intricate clock on the wall. It seemed as though an hour had passed since he'd left the basement. While it often chimed a false hour, he'd become accustomed to relying on it's time during the nights he'd stay up late, toiling over the finances. He smirked slightly and closed his book, satisfied that business was once again profitable. 

Raoul's backing would ensure him a most comfortable profit in the weeks and months ahead. However, a part of him was still at odds with the fact that the negotiations had gone so smoothly. He'd thought that more pressure would have been needed to sway the young man to their cause. _"Yet that fool, Guifford, had reported no false moves on the Comte's part, since he'd given up the promissory note." _He grinned, thinking of the large monetary sum that would soon be deposited into his account. "_I suppose it's true. Money does in fact buy both happiness and trust."_

Idly, he wondered if the prisoner was finally dead yet. Certainly with the men down there feeding their darkest desires, it was only a matter of time. Heaving his large frame up from the chair, he decided to go see for himself.

Walking down the halls, he was not shocked to see that they were almost completely empty. His offer of allowing the men in the household participate had left few at their posts. In any other circumstance he would have those absent from their positions, beaten to death, but in this case, it made him smile proudly.

Ducking his bald head, he descended the steps into the basement. Several of his guards were on their way up and bowed respectfully to the Master of the house. Returning their gestures with a nod, he moved past them, and down toward the lighted doorway where the stranger resided. A few stragglers left the room as he approached, and he allowed them to pass without comment.

The last to exit was the torturer, Rahim. "He's a tough one, milord," he remarked in passing. "Though I assure you, he is in pain beyond the comprehension of most mortal men."

Faraj remained frightfully calm, his face not betraying any of the shock he felt at the comment. He continued inside until he stood before the ominous steel coffin. The torchlight shone not only on the device itself, but on the many bristling needles that had been thrust within it. Everyone was now gone, leaving the stranger alone in his misery.

"Greetings!" He called forth, the boom of his voice echoing within the shell of Nadir's confinement. "I see you are still playing the martyr. Why don't you do yourself a favor and just die?"

A weak voice replied from inside the coffin. "And relieve you of my company? Why, what kind of guest would I be if I did that?" A fit of coughing overtook Nadir for several moments following those words.

Faraj countered Nadir's sarcastic attempt at being cordial. "I hope your accommodations are to your liking," he pressed on.

Nadir managed to raise his voice strong and even. "Of course. In fact, in certain parts of Asia, one has to pay extra for this kind of thing. I believe the technique is called Acupuncture." Summoning strength he didn't know he possessed, he continued. "It's _very_ therapeutic. I feel better than I have in ages!"

His brow furrowing in anger, Faraj snarled. "I grow _tired_ of your bravado, stranger!"

"Bravado? Me? I simply thank you once again for your _unprecedented_ hospitality." Another small cough echoed from within.

Seeing the blood permeating the floor, Faraj knew the man was in more pain than he'd ever let on. With a sudden realization, he knew that no matter what else he did to the man, he'd be defiant until the very end. While this intrigued him, unfortunately it bored him also. He reached at his side where his massive scimitar usually lay, fully intending to end this fool's life. Cursing himself, he realized he'd left it in his study. _"Damn this outsider's stroke of good fortune!" _

Faraj offered a sinister smile. "My friend, I hope you are being honest about your comfort, for tonight is your last night on earth. Tomorrow evening you _will_ die!" Storming out of the cell and heading back into the hall, he slammed the door hard, the echo reverberating all throughout the hall.

Visibly angry, he strode back upstairs, deciding his next move.

* * *

Alhena made her way back into the bath house, all the while her mind was absorbed in thought. She didn't wish to leave the secret passage or her brother so abruptly, but the laughter and occasional sounds of pain above them told her she might be called upon at anytime to tend to the Persian. 

Flying down the hall, she came to her room. Unlocking the door, she disappeared inside before anyone was the wiser.

She stepped out into the balcony, catching a glimpse of her brother riding off in haste upon Atreus's back. "_My…brother…_" she mused, thinking how improbable it all was and yet deep within her she knew it was true. _"But how?"_ There were many questions yet unanswered and she would be sure to find out more soon. _"I will have time to ask Nadir, while I attend to his wounds." _She pulled the vial Erik had given her from her bosom, and held it up against the moonlight. _"…remember, one drop…"_ she heard his voice tell her.

Being somewhat familiar with various herbal properties herself, she guessed the concoction to contain a tincture base of Red Root. _"Amongst other things…"_ She studied the contents closely, tipping the container on it's side, and watching the semi-thick liquid settle horizontally. _"Perhaps Ashwagandha Root as well, though what could he have possibly mixed within this to make it so effective, yet deadly?"_ She brought the small vial right side up to uncork the stopper, but a knock at her door interrupted her. She quickly placed the elixir back into the safety of her bosom, as she stepping into her room, and made her way toward the door.

As expected, it was none other than Faraj, taking up the whole of the doorframe as she opened the door to him.

"Good evening, my Tigress," Faraj announced as she opened her door. "I'm surprised you're awake at so late an hour."

Scowling, she replied, "Yet you call upon me anyway."

"The light from under your door made me curious. I wondered if you might be _entertaining_ someone."

"If I was, I certainly would not answer the door. I'd be lying down trying to enjoy myself," she smirked.

He let that go, knowing she would never bed another man and face his wrath, at least not without his permission of course. "I'm sure you would." He looked her up and down, noting she was dressed as she had been all day, not like one who was preparing for bed.

"What is it you want?" She asked impatiently.

He smiled down at her, his mind still pondering her state of dress. Her sandals seemed surprisingly scuffed and dirty too. "The usual, my dear. See to our friend in the basement. Your comforting touch will not go unappreciated," he commented knowingly.

"At what point did I go from your plaything, to this stranger's full-time nursemaid?" She cocked her head to the side and put her hands on her hips, trying to make her protests believable with the exaggerated body language.

"The point where I said 'do it or else,' my little minx." His smile widened, yet his eyes grew flinty.

Noting one of his hands had balled into a fist at his side, she quickly decided protesting was the wrong course of action. "Very well, then. It'll all be over in three days time anyway."

Faraj was quick to correct her, "Just one more day, my dear Alhena."

She looked at him in puzzlement. It was common knowledge to the residents of the house that the basement held seven trials for it's prisoners. The Persian had only experienced three thus far.

Before she could ask, Faraj spoke up. "I am bored of him already. He doesn't whimper and whine like he should. That takes a lot of the enjoyment out of it I'm afraid," he sighed theatrically.

"So what will you do to him?" She asked, suddenly afraid for the man.

"I've decided to skip to the end of this little program, so that we may get things back to normal around here," he waved his hands in a grand gesture. "He will be placed in The Master's Conundrum, and _then_ it will all be over. Tomorrow night we shall have a party, so make sure you take good care of him. If he dies before then, I'll have no choice but to find someone else to take his place and amuse the audience." He looked her dead in the eyes, the implication of his selection more than obvious on his dark features.

* * *

Disquieted by Faraj's declaration, she scrambled to gather the implements she needed in order to tend to the Persian. Once more, she secured the items within a blanket and then grabbed the empty bucket, which she would fill with clean water in the kitchen downstairs. 

Once her task was completed in the kitchen, her mind furiously tried to recall if she had missed anything, as she rushed out toward the basement. She noted that the guards were once more back in their various positions, allowing her to surmise that the torture was indeed over. She smiled inwardly, knowing that Nadir had been able to bear it all with courage, the likes these other fools would never know.

A guard at the end of the hall acknowledged her presence as she drew near, stepping aside and opening the door to the basement for her. Stepping through, she quickly descended the stairs, eager to have another discussion with Nadir, regarding her brother and their current situation.

The hallway at the bottom of the stairs was brightly lit, yet completely quiet. There was but a single guard in the hall. Faraj was obviously confident that only one would be needed after tonight's abundant inflictions upon the man.

"Is that you, Alhena?" Nadir called out, hope evident in his voice, as he heard her light footsteps approaching.

She entered the room and looked upon the monstrosity of the casket in the center. "If you were not certain of it, I doubt you'd expend the strength in asking."

"As always, I'm thankful for your arrival," he continued, trying to sound strong for her.

She crossed the room and stood before him. It pained her to look at the blood that was spattered at the foot of the coffin, and she couldn't imagine the agony he was experiencing as she considered all of the needles sticking out of crude structure. "I fear this may hurt…" she began.

"Although you cannot see it, for the first time tonight, I am smiling. Do what you must, I will be alright," he insisted.

His voice was rough to her ears. She knew he was trying his best to suppress the pain he had endured. She took a deep breath and prepared for the inevitable.

Concentrating, she pulled out the needles, one after another, in swift succession. The sharp intakes of breath she heard as she worked, inspired her to complete the process swiftly. "_The sooner it's done, the sooner I can try to ease his suffering." _She cast the needles to the floor as she went, disgusted at each bloody sliver of metal.

After several minutes, she'd removed them all, and stood to unfasten the latches between the two sides of the device. She pulled the front portion back, and it automatically rose up to the ceiling of the room. From behind him, she swiftly loosened the rope that bound him at the wrists. Before she could move back to the front to help ease him off of the contraption, Nadir pitched forward, completely bloodied and weak, onto the cold floor of the cell.

"_If there is a God, let him survive this and give me the strength to aid him this night,"_ she prayed silently. She dropped to the floor beside him and hurriedly grabbed the bandages she had brought with her. She hardly knew where to begin. He was bleeding from so many locations. Nevertheless, she wound a long bandage first up his right leg, hoping to stem the flow of blood. She didn't think any major arteries were punctured, but she felt it best to concentrate on those potential spots first.

Nadir rolled onto his back, despite the acute pain he felt. He watched her ministrations on his torn skin. "You are truly manna from heaven," he commented before closing his eyes again, feeling the black tide of unconsciousness rising within him.

"Take this," Alhena ordered, bringing forth the vial that Erik had given her. She uncorked it and pressed it to his lips.

Nadir gave a wan smile, "I do hope that's poison…" his words trailed off to a wracking cough.

"I'm afraid not," she replied. "Open your mouth."

He felt a blob of liquid land on his tongue, his senses immediately revolted by the taste. Swallowing hard he managed to gasp, "At least you could have made the poison taste better for a dying man."

"Blame my brother. He said it would help you."

Recognizing her acceptance of the truth, Nadir was finally happy for his friend. "Erik did always have a sense of humor."

"Hush now, let me work," she said, submerging a cloth into the bucket of water and moving to wipe the blood from his arms. Despite the torture, it looked like none of the wounds were life-threatening. _"Only time will tell, of course."_

As she cleaned his wounds, Nadir peered up at her in gratitude. "Thank you, for this. I know this has been a trying time for you."

"I'm not the one being tortured," she replied simply.

"Are you not?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. "A week ago you didn't know your brother still lived or that anyone cared for you outside these walls." He spoke of her mother now, the mother she thought had abandoned her long ago. "I would imagine that change of thinking, would pose a strain on someone who is set in their ways."

"It's true. I've been given much to think about," she remarked, winding another bandage around his injured hand.

Nodding, he continued. "I pray at the very least you believe what I've been saying all along."

Alhena paused, considering the man, "I do."

Managing another weak smile, Nadir let his head relax on the stone floor. "Then I can die happy in that knowledge at least."

"Your friends have no intention of letting you die," she smirked, holding a soaked cloth to his forehead. "In fact, I had to stop your friend, my brother, from rushing into the house alone this very evening."

"Indeed, that would be Erik's way."

"He was not happy when I said that you were unreachable tonight," she said quietly.

He raised his hand and laid it upon her arm. "You were able to speak with him?" He asked, interested in knowing how their initial meeting went.

"Yes. We had a _spirited_ discussion, but I sent him away thinking you had more time."

His eyes alit with curiosity. "What do you mean?"

"Faraj means to put you in the final chamber tomorrow," she informed him, her concern apparent, as she dabbed a cloth at the wounds on his chest. "There, you will die, unless something is done."

"If Allah wills it, then it will be so."

"I do not want you to die..." she began, a tenderness in her voice that she didn't recognize.

Reaching his bandaged hand higher, he brushed her hair back from her shoulder. "I've made my mark in this world, I am not afraid."

"I will not let you die so easily," she said proudly. "I will go to my brother and tell him all I know. He will be able to free you."

Nadir coughed again, waiting for the spasms to pass before speaking. "Do not do such a thing. Flee this place tonight and let him take you back to your mother in Morocco. There is nothing more he or you can do."

"I do not like this helpless feeling." Alhena turned her face away, hiding the tears she didn't know she possessed.

"My death will not be in your hands," he offered, trying to comfort her.

Wiping her eyes, she stood up. "But your life is," she said defiantly. "I will see you soon!"

She turned and fled into the hallway, the guard at the end moving to close the door once more on the Persian.

* * *

Upon returning to The Crystal Orchid, Raoul had informed Erik of their undisclosed friend, Guifford. He was the least of Erik's worries though, as he in turn revealed why he had not returned with Nadir or Alhena. 

The current situation had everyone on edge, more so than normal, as he explained Faraj's trial process. Ultimately the Persian's safe recovery would be discussed in great length over the next few days.

Once Erik had dismissed Raoul and Meg, he settled into bed with his wife, who easily fell asleep once he had held her close within his arms. Though he was completely relaxed beside her, he found it difficult to get any sleep. His thoughts occupied his time in the still hours of the night.

Easing a pillow between him and Christine, he crawled out of bed and walked over to the open window, the evening sky awash in a blanket of crystalline stars. Propping his arms against the windowsill, he smiled, thinking back on his meeting with his sister. It had gone unexpectedly well, given the fact she had made all attempts to deny his existence before her. _"Well, that's putting it lightly."_ She in fact was prepared to end his life, though he knew that would be a difficult task to accomplish in itself. _"She did put up a good fight. I'll give her that,"_ he chuckled slightly.

He glanced behind him as Christine turned on her side, wrapping her arms around the pillow beneath the covers. Thankful for not waking her, he brought his attention back to the starlit backdrop beyond him. Contemplating his mother's reaction to seeing her children together for the first time since they were unduly parted, his keen eyes diverted to the street below.

A carriage came to a stop almost directly below him and the driver hopped down from his bench to open the door for his passenger. It was a woman, her long legs draped by her fully cloaked form, as she emerged from the safety of the carriage. Instantly he knew, as if being drawn by some strange unseen force. _"Alhena…"_

He donned his robe, which lay at the foot of the bed, and anticipated her arrival beyond the door. He opened it before she had the chance to knock. "Alhena? You've put yourself in danger by being here."

"We have a problem," she said in a hushed voice.

"What has happened?"

"Faraj has sentenced Nadir to the final trial tomorrow night," she announced immediately. "I had no choice but to risk meeting you like this."

Erik stepped aside, outstretching his arm to welcome his sister into the room and out of any prying eyes from within the hall. She stepped inside, removing the cover of her hooded cloak from about her head.

"Brother," she whispered hesitantly, as she looked to the sleeping form upon the bed in the distance. With a questioning look upon her face, she made an attempt to ask, but he answered her, already knowing what she was about to ask.

"My… wife, Christine," he whispered back softly.

"You're married…" It was not so much a question, but a sentiment of both surprise and confusion. Inwardly, she was envious of her brother's fortune in this respect. It was something she had wanted for herself a long time ago. She took a seat before the table, sighing quietly within. "_He's lived a much different life, far more detached from that of my own." _

Alhena had yet to find out the finer details of the life Erik had led since their separation. To her, he had been dead and long since forgotten, along with her own mother. Little did she know of her brother's own trials that life had dealt him. The truth would be heard in time, but this night there was but one thing more pressing to her. She would not let Nadir down. Not again.

Though the room was dimly lit, save for a small candle that flickered upon the nightstand of Erik's side of the bed, he noticed Alhena's eyes, shifting in obvious thought. It was familiar, much like looking at his own reflection the countless times he would be lost within his compositions, drawings, _"Or…"_ he paused as he sat across from her. He studied her face a moment as she did the same. _"Desire…"_ he knew undoubtedly. The look she had was that of longing, a deep seeded want, yet, there was something even more. It was something she had decided in some form or another that it, whatever 'it' may be, was something unattainable. _"Christine,"_ he thought solemnly. That was it for him, at one point in time.

Coming back to the matter at hand she woke him from his meanderings, uneasy of the fixed observation he had on her. "I don't have much time. So ask of me what you will and I will assist in any way necessary."

Leaning forward, he began to set their plan in motion. Though it was at a moment's notice, he didn't need time to think, for he knew exactly how he wished to execute Nadir's rescue. It was all a matter of timing and staged delays, that of which Alhena and Raoul would be providing for him. There would be no room for error, especially with as many spectators Faraj was to have on hand for his grand display of his final chamber. Not being able to attain vital information on what the seventh trial entailed, Erik prayed he would be able to get to Nadir before he was moved. "_Whatever it is that Faraj has in store for him, I'll be damned if he has the chance to carry it out!" _


	24. Chapter 24

**M Rated Chapter**  
This Chapter contains physical intimacy. You have been warned. -grins-

**CHAPTER 24**

Faraj strode down the palatial halls of his bath house, headed toward Alhena's quarters. He had sought comfort for the evening within the arms of two of his newest acquisitions, but found it difficult to enjoy their services due to his preoccupation with his Tigress. He thought back on her earlier demeanor and sensed there had been something amiss, yet he couldn't place his finger on it. _"Where had she been?"_ He wondered suspiciously. He had recalled her dress and the unusual manner in which her footwear had been particularly unkempt. _"I shall have a word with her and be done with these dubious feelings." _

He had reached her door and spent several minutes knocking, which soon led to an aggravated pounding. _"She has never taken this long to come to her door,"_ he thought as he pulled the ring of keys from his belt. With a click of the lock, he accessed her room, pushing the door open and scanning the room easily.

Alhena was nowhere to be found.

A slow burning rage began to boil in the pit of his stomach. _"She dare defy me?"_ He grit his teeth, tilting his head from left to right, cracking the unforgiving joints of his neck. He stormed from the room, his steps heavy and thundering beneath him. _"She will more than regret her disobedience against me!" _

Slamming the door shut, he continued down the hall, returning to his quarters. He would take out his frustrations upon the two he had left in his bed.

* * *

As Alhena spoke of the Persian, Erik couldn't help but cheer inwardly at Nadir's brave display of diversion. He knew that he would never reveal anything to the likes of Faraj. _"No doubt, the Daroga has made an indelible impression on him,"_ he smirked, knowing full well how his foreign brother could get under one's skin.

"So, what is this chamber he is to be placed into and how might I access it from the passage below?"

"Therein lies the question, brother, for you see, only Faraj knows of the inner workings of the final chamber. No one has ever lived past the second trial and surely his God must favor him, otherwise he would not have survived The Iron Cross as he did."

"And how did he fare this night?" Erik wondered.

"I tended to his wounds as best I could and I administered the potion as you've instructed, though he wasn't pleased with the taste."

"That would be the Henbane," he replied, nodding.

"Are you mad?" She exclaimed. "Henbane is poisonous and not to be consumed!"

"It is not the main ingredient, but a very essential component nonetheless," he smiled knowingly. "I assure you, he will be fine. In fact, he should be feeling the effects this very moment."

The grin he gave her was both devilishly cocky, and innocently mischievous. Although she was curious to know of what effects Nadir would be undergoing, she thought it best to find out for herself, once she returned to Kukawa.

She returned to the question he had asked her initially. "Regarding the final chamber, sadly, I am unable to provide you with any solid information. There have been so many rumors about what it may contain, that the truth has long since been lost. However, I can tell you how to reach it."

"Go on," he encouraged her.

"Once you are inside the lower levels, it will be the far room at the end of the hallway. There are no torches around it, and it will appear as nothing more as an unmarked steel door," she advised.

Erik mulled the words over in his head before asking, "To get to these lower levels, I will need to go in from the secret entrance, and down a flight of stairs?"

"Yes. As I told you before, there will be at least one guard near the secret entrance, close to the kitchen. There are usually another two at the end of the hall by the door to the dungeon, and another pair at the base of the stairs below," she explained, hoping he would not forget her instructions.

"Very well. I shall arrive just before nightfall. Meet me at the entrance of the passage and I will have further instructions for you to relay to Nadir before he is moved."

"Until tonight then… Erik." She bowed her head curtly. Properly addressing him was so very foreign to her.

Erik noted it was the first time she had ever addressed him by his given name. He was hopeful that she had finally come to terms with their kinship, although he sensed a bit of anxiety in her voice.

"Alhena, everything will be fine. I promise." He offered reassuringly.

"I must go, before I am missed," she stood up from her chair, prepared to make her exit.

"Allow me to escort you downstairs then," he stood up as well and held his hand out to her.

She took his hand tentatively, granting his request.

Together, they exited the room, making their way downstairs and out front to her awaiting carriage.

* * *

It seemed like a perpetual lifetime since Meg had delighted in her husband's body. His loving touch had not been hers since their wedding night. The time for intimacy had not presented itself since being reunited, but tonight was an entirely different story altogether.

The light of the moon covered them softly as they kissed one another passionately. It had come as an unsuspected, but welcome surprise to Meg. She had awoken to Raoul's tender caresses upon each full swell of her breasts. He had brought each nipple to a fully erect peak as he pinched at each one deliberately. His heavy breathing left little room to wonder what he wanted of her, as he pressed against her firmly, and she was more than willing to comply.

He moved on top of her as they kissed feverishly. The pit of her stomach fluttered in anticipation, as he lifted her gown to rest about her waist. He removed his undergarments in haste, bringing himself to rest between her legs. With animalistic desire, he pushed into her deeply. Their moans intertwined as they coupled in frenzied rush.

He could not explain this urgency he felt which demanded to be fulfilled within his wife's body. He wanted her and he would not stop until his needs were met. He covered her left breast with his mouth hungrily, as he moved his hips against her with dominant precision.

She could not believe the manner in which her husband took charge of her body. It was unlike what she had remembered during their first encounter. Here was a man so full of carnal voracity that it excited her to no end. She grabbed his backside, pulling him into her with more force, deeper with each thrust.

He moaned lustfully, feeling the pressure mounting within. Quickly, he turned her on her side and renewed his conquest, taking her passionately in this new position. As he grabbed her breasts and ran his mouth along the side of her neck, he slid into her with reckless abandon. His hand eagerly traveled down her stomach and past her navel, until finally reaching the swollen flesh between her legs. Instinctively, she brought her leg up and draped it across his waist, allowing him better access within her. His movements became more frantic, as she tightened around him, heightening his desire to release.

"Oh, Raoul!" She cried out, abandoning herself to the onslaught of climactic pleasure he provided her.

"Yes… Meg…yes…" he strained between breaths, before surrendering to the needs of his own body.

With a final thrust, he held her close, filling her with an intensity he had not known himself to possess. He let out a long and winded sigh of relief, completely and utterly spent.

She trembled within his arms, the pulsing sensation within her calming to a dull throb. _"I shall never grow tired of this_," she smiled in satisfaction. "_He's everything I've dreamed of and more. I couldn't have asked for a better husband."_

With those thoughts, she thought back on their wedding day and the magnificent reception that followed. She soon remembered the conversation she had with Jean on the way to Orléans, and she grew troubled.

As their weary bodies settled within the twilight, Meg couldn't help but ask, "Raoul? Are you still awake?"

"Yes, Meg. What is it?" His voice was full of satisfaction and weariness.

"I wanted to ask…well…" she hesitated, wondering how to approach the subject delicately after the moment they had just shared.

Assuming what she was about to ask him, he offered up an explanation. "I don't know what came over me. There's no excuse for my rambunctious behavior. I had the sudden need to…" he was silenced by her finger upon his lips.

"That's not it at all, Raoul. You were magnificent and I wanted you just as much," she assured him softly.

"Then what is it?"

"Well, I was just thinking…" she bit her lower lip before continuing, "…about the night of our reception."

"What about it?" He asked curiously, his fingers toying with her golden hair.

"When I was looking for you… I mean, you told me that…" she sighed, unable to finish her words.

Finally in full understanding of what she was trying to ask, he replied, "You need not say another word." He turned her head to meet his apologetic eyes. "I was less than forthcoming with you that night and I spent every moment blaming myself as I crossed the desert to get to you. If anything had happened, I don't what I would've done without you." He held her hands tightly within his, pleading with her. "Please, believe me when I say I never meant for you to be in harms way. In fact, I thought I was keeping you safe by not alerting you to those scoundrels and their villainous demands." He kissed her hand softly, as if it were a precious jewel before finishing, "I will spend the rest of my days making this up to you."

"Raoul," she smiled, staring deep into his eyes. "All I ask is that you trust me. You shouldn't feel the need to keep things from me."

"You're absolutely right and from this day forward, I promise not to keep things from you ever again." He held her close and placed a kiss upon her head. "Was there something else?" He couldn't help but feel she had more to say to him.

"I miss France and Maman. I just wish to return home," she answered, longing to be away from this corner of the world.

Raoul suddenly remembered what he had so carelessly forgotten. _"I should have alerted Jacques to our current situation. It's been over a month now and I doubt he's been able to keep Madame Giry at bay with our supposed trip to London."_

"Raoul? What is it?" She asked, as his body stiffened up suddenly.

"I imagine the cavalry is on their way to us."

"What do you mean?"

"I told Jacques to alert the authorities to our situation if I had not returned with you after a month. Your mother believes us to be in London on holiday."

"Oh, Raoul," she said woefully. "You really thought Maman would believe that?"

"And why wouldn't she?"

"Because I would have gone to see her before I left. I tell her everything, you know that. She would find it suspicious, especially given the fact I have not written her."

"I hadn't thought of that," he admitted. "But in any case, it's out of our hands now. I suspect the French authorities are on their way even as we speak, though they will only make it as far as Zanfara I fear."

"Zanfara?"

"That is where I was told to go before Christine and I were brought here to Bornu and consequently to Kukawa for your retrieval."

"What are we to do then? Should we send word in the morning?"

"In three days time we will be free of this place. Anything we send at this point would take weeks to reach France and hopefully by then, it won't matter."

"Maman will not be pleased," she sighed.

"I can honestly say I fear her more than I do my own father," he admitted freely.

"Raoul," she smacked his arm playfully, "What a scandalous thing to say!" Without warning, she began to tickle him. "Take it back!"

"What?" He grinned mischievously, attempting to defend himself. "I promised to be more forthcoming with you, did I not?" Trapped beneath her persistent fingers, he chuckled uncontrollably.

Raoul had no way of knowing what had transpired next door mere moments ago. By morning, he would find out that their plans would now be carried out much sooner than anticipated.

* * *

After seeing his sister to the awaiting carriage safely, Erik returned to his room. Removing his robe, he made his way toward the bed, carefully settling in beside Christine. He pulled the pillow free from her grasp and brought her arm to rest about his waist. The warmth of her body made him smile, as he closed his eyes against the darkness.

Slowly, Christine brought her hand up to meet his face. With care, she pulled his mask free and placed it upon the table behind her. It became a habit for her to remove his mask on an almost nightly basis. He often forgot to do it himself.

"How was your visit with your sister?" She asked sleepily.

"Mon ange?"

"That was Alhena, wasn't it?"

"My apologies if we woke you." He stroked her bare arm with his fingertips.

"Please, don't apologize. I was barely asleep to begin with. I find myself missing you when you're not beside me, Angel." She cuddled close to him and placed a kiss upon his shoulder. "Besides, a pillow is hardly a substitute for my husband."

Thinking she had been peacefully asleep the entire time, he answered, "You are much wiser than I give you credit for."

With a gasp of surprise, she pulled him over and rolled on top of him. "Do you believe me to be a simpleton, Monsieur?" She questioned theatrically.

"If I am to answer incorrectly, what shall my punishment be, Christine?" He smiled, his eyes giving away his inner urges.

She could feel the length of him harden beneath her. "Are you trying to goad me into a position more suitable to your needs?" She raised a scrutinized eyebrow at him.

He grasped her backside firmly and pulled her down against him.** "**Is it working?"

She stifled a whimper and answered in a fevered breath. "Absolutely," she brought her lips to meet his, crushing her mouth against him.

Their mouths parted in excitement, their tongues colliding in a frenzy to taste one another. Her hands ran along his face preciously as he pulled at her shift, anxious to drown himself in her body. Without breaking their kiss, he held her close, turning her onto her back.

He rid her of her gown instantly and pressed his body against hers, relishing in the warmth of her skin against his own. His needs were intense, yet he ultimately felt the need to please her, giving himself to her wholly. His hands wandered up and cupped each breast tenderly, as he lowered himself between her outstretched legs. He stared at her precious treasures, glistening with desire and awaiting the commands of his body.

He savored each moan that escaped her as he indulged in her fervently with his mouth. Beneath his expert touch, her body arched, craving each and every caress he administered upon her sensitive skin. The heat of his mouth covered her, his nimble tongue stroking her with the precision of a skilled lover. He teased her purposefully, his movements calculated against the reactions of her body.

Her legs began to tremble, as she panted in rapid succession. He held her legs apart firmly as he continued upon her at a maddening pace. With a rhapsodic cry she submitted to him as he covered her completely with his mouth. She shuddered uncontrollably and gasped his name repeatedly in pleasure.

Unable to resist his own urges, he crawled up her heaving body and kissed her passionately, her musky scent evident upon his lips.

He slid into her with ease, the warmth of her caressing him as he filled her completely. She held onto him as he lost himself within the pleasure of her body. Knowing with utmost certainty that every time with her would be like the first, he slid inside her in a frenzied pace. She drove him crazy with a need that could only be sated by loving her. He studied her face, memorizing every soft curve. Her delicate features flourished in an intoxicated hue of bliss. She bit at her lower lip, the fire in her eyes beckoning him further. He sought her deeply, her unbridled display of emotion fueling his rhythmic movements within her. She parted her rose colored lips, as low moans escaped her wantonly. He gave of his body unselfishly, savoring each sensation she brought forth within him. He knew of no greater moment than this. Nothing could eclipse the sensation he felt when he made love to her.

With every masterful thrust he surrendered to her, succumbing to the power she had over him. "You are everything to me, Christine," he said in awe of their intimate embrace.

"Erik…my Angel," she panted in a delirious breath. She felt the familiar tide of orgasmic euphoria rising within her once again. "I love you," she gasped, as she wrapped her legs tightly around his waist.

The tension between them mounted to an overflow of otherworldly desire. Within each other they gave way to an ethereal culmination of climactic ecstasy. She writhed in pleasure beneath him, peaking with an intensity only he could bring forth from her body.

"Christine," he growled, burying himself within her desperately. With unrelenting force, he shattered and shook within her, freely giving into the demands of his body's appetite for release.

He kissed her sweetly before rolling onto his side and letting out a sigh of contentment. "I love you too, bel ange," he whispered serenely.

She turned on her side, bringing herself to rest partially upon him. "You never answered my question."

"Hmm?" He attempted to answer her, his mood and body finally relaxing.

Watching his eyelids grow heavier by the second, she laid her head against his chest and replied, "Never mind. It can wait," she smiled, rubbing her hand against his chest lovingly.

"Mmm…" he mumbled, just before falling asleep.

She watched him awhile before finally surrendering to her own dreams.

They lay together peacefully in the afterglow of their union. The dawn of a new day approached swiftly, but in this moment nothing else mattered but each other.

* * *

Returning to the bath house, Alhena made her way inside as if nothing were amiss. The guards at the door recognized her and let her pass. They both assumed that if Faraj decided to let her go out, it was not their place to question it. She quickly returned to her room to pick up the usual items she took with her to the dungeon.

Walking with a purpose, she didn't notice the pair of eyes that had witnessed her return as well as her exit from her room. _"So, she has been out of the house… but why?" _Faraj mused. He debated whether or not to confront her now or wait and see what would happen next. It was obvious that she was heading downstairs to tend to the prisoner. He chuckled to himself thinking the man was clearly in no condition to ravage her, but he stopped when he realized she might be helping him in other, more insidious ways. He crept out into the hallway and headed to the basement, hoping to learn more.

Despite his size, he moved quietly, alerting the guards along the way to silence as he approached. Opening the basement door cautiously, he crept down the stairs and paused at the base for a few moments. The guards there looked at him curiously but said nothing as he raised his finger to his lips.

Moving forward he paused outside of the room of the Iron Cross, as the voices inside finally became audible.

**-XXX-**

"I truly am feeling better, my dear," Nadir stated with a smile, shifting himself into a seated position as she entered.

Alhena looked him over. "I'm not so sure, you look flushed for some reason."

"Perhaps I am simply in need of your cooling touch?" He suggested.

She administered a wet cloth to his head, his sigh of contentment sounding odd and out of place in this miserable room.

"You are as skilled as you are beautiful, Alhena."

She scoffed at his words, running the cloth over the more obvious of his wounds. "While I thank you for the compliment, this is neither the time nor the place for flattery. I've got to make sure you're healthy enough for tomorrow's trial."

**-XXX-**

Outside the cell, Faraj smiled, thinking perhaps he had wronged the girl's intentions. It sounded as if she wanted nothing more to do with the stranger than he had forced her to partake in. He continued listening.

**-XXX-**

"I'm more than healthy. In fact, if you'd like, I can show you _just _how healthy I'm feeling." The Persian grinned at her lecherously.

Recoiling, she resisted the urge to smack him. "What is wrong with you?" She said hotly, her hands disappearing once again into the bucket.

"Ever since you left, I've thought of nothing but you. Your face, those eyes, your full brea…"

On instinct, her hand cracked hard against his cheek, the harsh noise resounding all throughout the room.

**-XXX-**

The sound of her slap against the stranger's face echoed out into the hall, causing Faraj to stifle a laugh. He turned away, thinking he was completely mistaken in his assessment of her motives. It was apparent she had no ulterior motives for being down here, therefore there must be a logical reason for her earlier absence. He would discuss it with her later, he decided. He'd punish her also, of course. But that was another matter entirely.

**-XXX-**

"My brother informed me of the effects of the potion I gave you, but he didn't mention this as being one of them." She smirked, noting the grin on the man before her. "I bet he thought it would be an amusing surprise for me."

**-XXX-**

Faraj stiffened and stopped in mid-stride, swiftly returning to listen in again. "_Brother? I didn't know she had a brother. How does he fit in with all this? And what potion does she speak of?"_

**-XXX-**

"Well his intention _was_ for you to help me feel better. I have a few suggestions you might try..." Nadir moved to remove his tattered shirt, reaching out for her.

Disgusted, she stood up. "You're of no use to me like this," she shook her head in disappointment. "You'd better get some rest. Tomorrow will be a big day and you must be ready."

"Please, don't leave. Stay and take care of me," Nadir said dramatically, running his hands over his recently treated wounds.

She threw a strip of cloth at him. "Take care of yourself, you perverted fool. I'll be back in the morning and we'll talk more."

She gathered the rest of her implements from the floor, and made her way out of the cell.

**-XXX-**

As Alhena gathered her items, Faraj took the opportunity to sneak away and back up the stairs. "_So she IS keeping secrets from me. I could beat it out of her, but I think it will be more fun to dash her hopes first." _He wondered about her supposed brother, curious as to how he'd fit into the scenario. Was he a friend of the man he held prisoner? Surely no one man could have any impact on his plans.

Deciding to let it go for the moment, he headed upstairs to write out the invitations for tomorrow evening's event, secure in the knowledge that he was the Master.

* * *

The bath house was a tornado of motion the next morning, as servants scrambled to get everything ready for the party at night. Everywhere, there were women scrubbing the walls, polishing furniture, and setting up the decorations. Alhena helped in the various processes, trying to make sure that as many people as possible saw her in the house, should anyone ask her whereabouts later on.

Finding the opportune time to head toward the dungeon, she made her way down the pillared hall. As she turned the corner, she ran into Faraj, who was on his way to meet with her.

"Ah, there you are!"

Though she was startled, she hid it well. "Yes?" She asked casually.

"Shouldn't you be in the entertaining hall?" Faraj questioned.

Thinking fast, she replied, "I was just on my way to the kitchen. We're in need of a few more decanters."

The kitchen was in fact a few feet away, yet he remained skeptical. "You could have sent a servant girl for that."

"I could have, but I didn't want to take anyone away from their current duties. You already have them working on various rooms in order to be ready for tonight."

"Indeed," he stared her down, attempting to find the truth within her words.

"If there's nothing else…" she tried to move past him, but he caught her by her shoulders firmly.

"Actually, I was on my way to tell you to that you will be joining me and the Comte tonight. I expect you to be ready at sundown."

She furrowed her brow. "But what about my other duties? That hardly gives me enough time to…"

"Your duties and time belong to me!" He barked. "You _will _do as I've ask, Alhena!"

"_Yes_, Master," she bowed her head subserviently.

Faraj released her from his grip and then stepped aside, allowing her to pass. He watched her go, continuing down the hall toward the kitchen. As she rounded the corner, Faraj called to the two closest guards down the hall.

"Sabiq! Mazahir!" He called forth.

The two men marched toward their master and bowed stiffly before him. "Master!" They said in unison.

"You two are to keep an eye on my Tigress," he snarled, anger evident in his tone.

"Yes, Master!" They chimed in again.

"Oh, and kill whoever she associates with outside these walls," Faraj finished with a grin, fingering the gold hoop in his ear.

Both men bowed as Faraj dismissed them with a wave of his mighty hand. He turned away and strode back to his study. On the way there, Faraj caught sight of Ranier roaming the grand salon, distracting one of his servants from her duties.

"Come now," Ranier insisted. "It'll be a quick momentary delay." He patted her backside as she bent forward to retrieve more glasses from the bottom shelf of the bar. "No one will know," he said soothingly.

"I will!" Faraj bellowed at the sight.

Ranier's back stiffened as he turned to face Faraj.

"You…" Faraj pointed. "You're friends with that ox Guifford, are you not?"

The servant quickly left Ranier's side to avoid her master's wrath as Ranier answered. "I wouldn't exactly say we're friends," he snorted, laughing at the ludicrous thought.

"A simple yes or no will do," Faraj cautioned, glaring at the man.

"Then yes," Ranier bowed his head in acquiescence.

"Splendid! You've just been recruited as my messenger for the day!"

"Pardon?" Ranier stammered, puzzled at the announcement.

"Seeing as you have nothing better to do then throw yourself at my servants, poorly I might add, you will deliver the Comte's invitation for tonight's festivities in person. While you're there, see if your portly companion has any news for me regarding our dear patron."

"Shall I have a suit tailored for you as well or perhaps bake a cake in your honor?" Ranier challenged, visibly upset at playing the role of an errand boy.

With a steely glare, Faraj quickly closed the gap between him and his subordinate. "You would do well to keep that sharp tongue of yours for much more useful things. I would hate to have to relieve you of it," he warned.

A moment a silence passed between the two, Ranier weighing the potential outcome of a verbal comeback, but deciding against it.

Smacking Ranier's back, Faraj's demeanor quickly changed. "Well now, let's have a walk to my study, shall we? There's still much to be done prior to the big occasion!" He grinned enthusiastically.

* * *

After getting an envelope from Faraj, Ranier quickly left the bath house, eager to get his odious task over with. Playing messenger didn't exactly thrill him, but you don't lightly say no, to the Master of the house. He angrily spurred his horse in the direction of town. He'd decided he'd make Guifford deliver the message, so he wouldn't have to deal with the Comte or his two whores.

Remembering the directions Faraj had given him, Ranier arrived eventually at the Seven Veils. It wasn't difficult to find Guifford's room, his size and nationality made him stand out. As soon as the little man began his description, the innkeeper knew exactly who he spoke of. Checking his book at the desk, the man returned and advised Ranier of Guifford's room number.

With a curt nod, he immediately made his way up the stairs, stopping as he saw the number "8" embossed on the wall beside a crudely painted wooden door. He knocked, hard and even, until he heard a stirring in the room beyond.

"Room service?" A bleary-eyed Guifford opened the door and stared out hopefully.

Smirking, Ranier stepped into view. "Not hardly." He brushed the bigger man aside and strode into the room. "Although I'm not surprised that you obeyed your gut," he poked a finger at Guifford's midsection, "instincts when opening the door to a stranger."

"What is it, Ranier?" Guifford stepped away from the taunt, reaching out and retrieving his bowler hat from a side table. "I'm not due to report till tomorrow."

Seating himself by the window, the small man gazed down the road. "Plans change. Faraj has a request for you."

"Go on." He reached out for his boots and began putting them.

"He's having a party tonight, to celebrate both his renewed business ability, and the first time use of his grand torture room for the annoying pest who arrived a few nights ago."

"That man is still alive?" Guifford asked in surprise. He'd heard that most people that were doomed to the dungeons died much sooner, and assumed that the stranger was dead.

"Only until tonight, but never mind that. Faraj wants you to deliver an invitation to the Comte de Chagny for tonight's festivities."

Scratching his stubbly chin thoughtfully, Guifford was puzzled. "That makes no sense, he's got me spying on them, and now I'm supposed to reveal myself out of nowhere?"

Ranier shrugged in dismissal. "I suppose he sensed there was no more need for you to remain hidden."

"I don't know..."

Scowling, Ranier handed him the envelope. "What's there to know? I just told you what you need to do." He eyed his companion with contempt. "You need know nothing except that_ I _am going back to the bath house, while _you_ take your fantastic girth and deliver the damned message!"

Guifford hung his head low, trying not to let his anger overwhelm him. He was tired of being the target of his companion's verbal assaults.

To Ranier however, it looked as if the big oaf was on the verge of tears. "Oh God, get up and go before your weeping floods the room. An enormous beast like you probably cries big, salty tears of gravy anyway," Ranier snickered at the image.

"Stop it..." Guifford whispered, his hands trembling.

"I'm only teasing, you blubbering idiot. Sheesh!" He sighed in exasperation. "You know? You undoubtedly are the world's largest infant!" He laughed heartily. "I can see it now. The nursemaids would have to use bed sheets for your diapers!"

"That's _it_!" The big man stood up, towering over the much smaller Ranier. "For years I've put up with your jokes, your taunts, and your little pranks. It ends NOW!"

Ranier retreated slowly, bumping into the closed door. He wanted to leave but his hands fumbled at the doorknob in futility. "Easy now, Guifford…" he began.

Guifford placed both hands on the door, on either side of Ranier, effectively trapping him. "Listen here, you pint sized little bastard. I will do what I was told and stay here watching over le Comte. If there's a message for him, deliver it yourself, as I suspect your orders were to do so regardless." He raised one finger before Ranier's face. "Now, pay attention. Here comes the most important part. Leave now and stay the hell out of my way!" He roared down at the cowed figure before him.

Ranier snatched the envelope and moved again towards the door. Guifford let him pass staring him down, still angry, yet finally feeling good for saying what he'd been holding in for so long.

"Well, since you're so insistent about it, I'll do you a favor and handle it myself… this one time," Ranier bluffed, closing the door behind him. He fled in haste once he was sure he was out of sight.

* * *

Taking his leave, Ranier rode for a few shorts blocks, bringing his horse to a stop before The Crystal Orchid. Dismounting and securing his horse to a nearby post, he stepped into the building and walked up to the deskman.

"Can I help you?" The deskman inquired.

"Why, yes, you can! Be a good man and fetch the Comte de Chagny for me. Tell him I'll be waiting in the bar."

Before the deskman could ask his name, Ranier strode off in the direction of the saloon.

A servant was quickly dispatched to deliver the message to Raoul's room upstairs.

As the barmaid delivered Ranier his drink order, Raoul approached him from the opposite end of the room, his hand firmly upon the hilt of his saber at his waist.

"How's it going, prissy boy?" He called out tauntingly, raising his glass to his lips.

"Does your boss know you address his partners with such poor disregard?" Raoul eyed him sternly. "I'd wager I need only ask and your head would soon adorn the wall amongst the other creatures I have on display at my estate in France."

"Calm down," he muttered gruffly, and gestured to the seat across from him. "You nobles need to learn how to take a joke."

"What is it you want?"

"No hello or nice of you to come and visit?" Ranier teased.

"If you've come all this way socially, having some grand disillusioned idea that you and I could become fast friends, I assure you I am neither amused nor interested in such a preposterous venture," Raoul said with disdain.

"As if I would be?" Ranier scoffed in derision. "I'm only here because of this," he tossed the invitation Faraj had given him across the table.

Raoul picked up the envelope, preparing to read the contents.

"You're invited to a party, Comte!" Ranier blurted out offhandedly, sipping his drink.

Raoul was visibly annoyed as he replied, "I'd like to read it for myself, if you please?"

Snarling, Ranier replied. "Suit yourself, but do me a favor and do it elsewhere. Your company is unnerving on so many levels," he rolled his eyes.

Raoul did not hesitate in ridding himself of the unwelcome company of his so called associate.

As he walked off, Ranier shot out, "It was good to see you too!" Under his breath he finished, "…you pretentious bastard..."

**-XXX-**

As Alhena approached The Crystal Orchid, she noticed a familiar mount, tied to a post out front. Ducking into a side alley, she kept an eye on the front doors of the building.

Fifteen minutes had past, before Ranier finally emerged from within.

"_That weasel!"_ She snorted, watching Ranier mount his horse and take off down the road.

As soon as he was well beyond the horizon, she stepped out from the alleyway and walked toward the main doors of The Crystal Orchid. She made her way upstairs and down the hall toward her brother's room.

Standing before the door, she knocked a few times before Erik appeared from beyond it. Several muffled voices could be heard behind him as he stepped into the hall and shut the door behind him.

"I…"

"Come." He took her by the arm. "We must converse elsewhere. I wish to keep my wife from any further excitement."

Heeding the severity of his tone, she nodded, allowing him to escort her back down the stairs and outside of the inn.

They walked for several feet before settling at the side alley she had been at moments before.

She confronted him immediately regarding Nadir's behavior. "Really, brother..." the tone in her voice obviously flustered, "…overt virility?" She leveled a dangerous glare upon him

He looked at her curiously for a split second before realizing what she was referring to. "So he's feeling better then, I take it?" He chuckled.

"You said he would be lucid, but failed to mention he'd turn into a salacious pig!"

"There was no telling with absolute certainty how he would react to the various components. It appears he is no longer in pain and that is all that matters."

"You mean beside the ache in his…"

Raising his hand, he interrupted her. "Alhena, please! That's quite enough. I need not hear of the Daroga's libido," he shivered at the thought.

"Daroga?"

"He was once the great Daroga of Mazanderan, chief of police to the Shah of Persia, but I digress. It's a tale I must share with you another time for I do not wish to keep you longer than necessary."

"Then answer me this, how is he to function tonight when his frame of mind is clearly below his waistline?"

"He will regain his faculties by the evening," he paused a moment. "Though..." His thought trailed off.

"Though what?" She demanded to know.

"He will need another drop before then," he informed her.

"Tell me you're not serious." She looked at him incredulously.

"Having had his initial dose, he should be fine," he imagined.

"Should?"

Thinking it over, he guessed, "Well, one of two things could happen."

"Could?" She sighed. "Erik, you need not pussyfoot around me."

He took her words to heart, knowing she too shared in his impatient nature. "He will either remain in the state he is in currently or he will become more aggressive. His energy level will heighten, giving him a sense of invincibility. He will seek physical retribution in one form or another, be it lust or blood."

"I'm not sure which I should fear most, the horny goat or the bloodthirsty wolf.

"You will fear neither. You are more than capable of handling the Persian. I've seen you in action first hand, after all," he grinned. "Know that I did not deceive you when I said he would remain lucid. Though he will be under the influence of the elixir, he will not mistake you for those others that mean to do him harm."

"I trust in what you say, but ultimately I alone must bare witness to that fact to be certain," she proclaimed adamantly.

"I would expect nothing less from you," he informed her. He placed his hands upon her shoulders, admiring her features in the light of day. "Now, tell me, what brings you here? I hadn't expected to see you until tonight."

"That is why I'm here. I will not have the chance to meet with you as planned. Faraj has requested I be at his side this evening. I do not wish to jeopardize the mission by attempting to escape his watchful eye."

"I see. Well, no matter. This actually works more to our advantage, for with you at his side, he will be the one under surveillance. After tonight he will no longer be of your concern."

Alhena began to think of the potential aftermath of the events to come. She would not distract her brother from his plans. _"I will tell him of my decision once Nadir is safe, not before."_ There was no doubt in her mind that she would leave the bath house tonight, just not with Erik. _"I will not subject my mother to my torrid affairs,"_ she vowed, ashamed of the promiscuous life she had been forced into.

"Of that you can be certain," she agreed with him, and moved to depart.

Around the corner of the alleyway, Sabiq and Mazahir looked at each other in concern. Their orders were explicit; to kill anyone that Alhena came in contact with outside of the bath house. But the revelations they overheard, made them wonder if they should not run to Faraj and let him know of the plans that the two had devised. Regardless of the outcome, their duty was clear. They both loosened their sabers in their scabbards and drew them out, nodding at each other.

Storming into the alley with a cry, the two men rushed at the pair before them.

Erik quickly shoved Alhena behind him as he pulled his long blade forth.

Swinging wildly, Faraj's guards attempted to wound him, yet his subtle movements kept their advances at bay.

"Run, Alhena!" Erik cried, parrying the deft lunge of the man before him, ducking the stroke of the other. He whipped his cape upwards with his left hand, hoping the movement would grant him a moments reprieve from their furious onslaught.

Alhena stood back, her hands immediately going to two of her daggers, resting upon her person. She had no angle with which to throw however, as the three men danced furiously about, trying to find an opening. She dodged back and forth behind her brother, hoping for an instant of opportunity.

The man on his right used his free hand and managed to grab Erik's twirling cape, tugging mightily on it, attempting to take him off balance. Erik moved with the pull, dodging another strike, and lashing out with his free hand, surprising the man on his left with a solid punch to the head. He noted in grim satisfaction that the guard stumbled back in surprise. Meanwhile the other one pressed his advantage, swinging hard at Erik's back. The move might have connected, had his motion not been interrupted by a dagger piercing his lower back.

Erik noticed the predicament and the sudden turn in his favor. Parrying the stroke of the man he'd struck, he glanced over his shoulder and saw Alhena still there, fingering another shining dagger.

"I thought I told you to leave." He stated, dodging to the right, avoiding a clumsy attempt to skewer him. Both men pressed their attack, but he noted the man Alhena had scored a hit upon was moving in obvious pain.

"You looked like you might need a helping hand, my brother," she replied, darting behind him searching for another opening.

"Against these?" He asked incredulously. "I've known cripples with more talent." He feinted high and swung low, his sword tearing a bloody path upon the thigh of the closest man. He smiled as his victim hobbled away and cursed aloud.

Once more, Erik swung his cape up high attempting to mislead his attackers. He ducked behind the movement and lunged in full extension, running his blade directly into the chest of the man Alhena had previously stuck. He fell to the ground, blood erupting from the wound violently.

"Nice work..." Alhena commented, "..._but _turn around."

Erik managed to free his blade just in time to defeat the sideways slash of the other man. Lashing out with his right foot, he connected directly with the kneecap of the charging guard. With a sickening crack, he fell to the floor, clutching at his wound.

Approaching him cautiously, Erik glared down upon the man, sword leveled at him. "Who do you work for? Why have you attacked us?"

"I'll tell you _nothing!_" The man spat in obvious agony.

Erik reached up slowly, deliberately pulling his mask free. "I think you will, or you'll share my fate."

Seeing the horror of the ruined face, the guard turned away. "The devil take you both!" He yelled defiantly, attempting to roll away. In the same motion, he grabbed a belt knife from his waist and without warning plunged it directly into his own chest, going limp almost immediately.

"No great loss," Alhena murmured, returning to his side.

Sensing her near, Erik quickly returned the mask to his face.

Alhena placed her hand against his back. "I know the mask is not worn as some form of eccentric accessory and though I am curious, as no doubt many have been before me, I only wish to say that it matters not to me _why _you wear it."

"I've had no time to tell you of all the things that have come to pass, but know that this sits upon my face to shield others from the horror that lies beneath it. An accursed gift bestowed upon me by the woman I believed to be my mother."

"Erik, your face will not change the fact that you are of my blood and that, above all else, is what's important. There will come a time when you will be able to confide in me, but do not feel pressured into doing so now, merely for my own benefit."

He was fully prepared to show her what he hid behind the mask, but she was right. He would only being doing it for her, and not because he was ready or comfortable enough to do so. "Thank you, Alhena," he said, admiring her for considering him.

Staring back at the pair of bodies before him, Erik replied. "I would have liked to have had the opportunity to question them. Have you ever seen either of them before?" He asked.

"No. Despite my time with Faraj, at any given time I have only known about half of his people," she concluded. "Now, I must return to Faraj before I am missed. The more I linger, the more he will suspect something is going on."

His observed the matching clothing the pair wore. _"Common footpads do not wear uniforms," _he noted. "He already knows," he said with absolute certainty.

* * *

**Author's Note**  
Well, I had wanted to post this much earlier, but FFN had not been cooperating with me yesterday and today I was out of the house, so I apologize for not getting this up earlier today. I hope everyone enjoyed this update. As always, the intimacy scenes should slightly differ from my AFF update, so for those that wish to view that one, may find it at that site, once it's up. This wasn't as long as I thought it would be, but perhaps the next chapter will make up for that. We should be at the beginning of the bath house showdown by Chapter 26, so hang in there everyone. Thanks for all the wonderful reviews on the last update. I felt the love. I am so happy you all have stayed with me! Thanks for the awesome support! -hugs- Lastly, I wanted to say that I am blessed to have such a wonderful boyfriend to help me with this sequel. Not to mention his continued support of my Gerry/Phantom obsession. -smiles- 


	25. Chapter 25

**CHAPTER 25**

Fleeing the alleyway with Alhena in tow, Erik brought his sister back inside The Crystal Orchid. He hadn't expected such an attack, yet he was hardly caught off guard. Despite his insistence that she leave, Alhena had remained at his side and had handled herself exceptionally well.

Attempting to bring his sister to his room, Erik was pulled back suddenly. Alhena had come to a stop, three steps behind him on the stairs. Her grasp upon his arm was steady, as he turned back in irritation to question her. Before he had a chance to say anything, she explained, "I must return to The Jeweled Moon."

Erik looked at her as if she had gone mad. He was in disbelief that she would even think of going back now, or that he would allow it after what had just happened. "I cannot permit you to do that," he said firmly.

"_Excuse_ me?" She raised an eyebrow at him, unaccustomed to demands given by anyone other than Faraj.

Trying to keep his voice down, he leaned closer to her. "Did you not hear what I said out there? It was no accident those men attacked us," he implied knowingly.

Alhena shook her head at her brother's failure to understand. "Nonetheless, I have to go back. I didn't ask for you to become my keeper, Erik, nor do I need one."

"It's much too dangerous, Alhena!" He warned, his eyes pleading with hers to realize the truth.

She glared under protest. "I'm very aware of the dangers, but it's a risk I choose to take," she pointed out, tearing her hand free from the grasp he now had upon her. "I can't leave Nadir to his fate. It will be far worse, should I not return. The things Faraj would do to him in my stead are unimaginable."

"And what of the things he is capable of doing to you?" Erik snarled, unwilling to listen.

"Brother," she said softly, "we both take risks in this, but you must see that my return _is_ necessary. I brought us to where we are. I am responsible for seeing the Persian through this with his life intact, but I require your help. We mustn't diverge from the plan. By the time Faraj finds out we've dispatched his scouts, it'll be much too late to matter."

In every sense of the word, she was right and he knew this. With her distraction of Faraj, things would go much smoother than if she were to go missing. _"A risk I am to take, indeed,"_ he sighed. He had been in many complicated positions before, but at no one else's expense but his own. This would definitely be his most challenging situation yet.

"Now, I must go," she repeated, knowing from his expression, he had come to terms with all she had said.

As she turned away from him, he stood tall, folding his arms across his chest. "Do not make my decision one I will regret," he said seriously.

Reaching the front door, she turned her head to look back on him. "If you later regret this decision, then it means that I'll be dead. In which case, I won't have to hear you going on and on about it." She grinned slyly, giving a mocking bow before departing swiftly.

"_Yes, she is undoubtedly my sister,"_ he smirked as he watched her leave. As the door came to a close behind her, he turned back up the stairs. _"Time for me to lay out our plans for tonight,"_ he thought, as he headed toward his room.

This night, Erik vowed to bring an end to Faraj's maniacal reign, once and for all.

* * *

The bath house was still bustling with servants, frantically working to have everything prepared in time for tonight, making it easy for Alhena to return unnoticed amongst the chaos. She had retreated instantly to her room and gathered the items she needed to take with her to the dungeons below. She rushed down the stairs and towards the basement, nodding at the guards as she passed. 

Descending into the darkness, she hoped that the Persian was well. _"Importantly, more himself,"_ she shook her head at the awkwardness between them last night.

Looking beyond the iron grill of the chamber door, she spotted Nadir lying on the stone floor in the middle of the room. He was face down with his back to the door, as she let herself in.

Nadir listened to her delicate footsteps as she approached him. "Alhena, I want to apologize for last night," he sat up as she set her bucket down.

"I suppose this means you have your wits about you today?" She studied him carefully, as he nodded solemnly.

His eyes met hers apologetically. "My behavior was uncalled for and I will understand, should you think less of me this day."

"That's behind us now," she assured him, submerging a clean cloth within the water bucket. "What we need to focus on now is your escape tonight." She began to clean the dried blood from the numerous puncture wounds that covered his body.

"That will take a miracle," he sighed heavily. Even with any reserved strength he could muster, he was certain he would be of little use to anyone.

Alhena chuckled as she attended him. "Good of you to be so positive."

"Why didn't you do as I've asked? You should be halfway across the Sahara already instead of joining me like this," he argued.

"How well do you know my brother?" She asked, as she inspected the stitching she had sewn upon his arm previously.

"I've known him for many years now," he replied, confused at the question.

"And in knowing him, you should know exactly why we have remained then."

Nadir laughed, "Because of stupidity and stubbornness? Erik tends to act first before considering the consequences of his actions. He's always entertaining one foolish notion or another."

"But how often has he failed at those endeavors he had set his mind at accomplishing?"

"To my knowledge, not often," he replied quietly.

"Then why do you doubt your escape?"

"You must understand, the majority of those pursuits were less harrowing," he shook his head. "At the time, it was only our own two lives we had to worry about. Now we have you, le Comte, and the women to consider. It is easy to be bold and lucky when your mind is not preoccupied with the welfare of others."

"Luck may indeed be needed tonight," she admitted as she moved to clean his back.

"My main concern is of yours and Erik's safety," he continued. "Though it may be possible, the lengths it will require to garner my freedom will be difficult. I would have been more at peace knowing you were far from this place and headed back to Morocco to be reunited with your mother."

"I will take my leave tonight, but only _after_ you are brought from this place as well."

Alhena's persistent nature did not surprise Nadir in the least. He had grown accustomed to Erik's determination, however foolish and unreasonable it was at times. There was nothing he could say to make her change her mind and even if there were, it would be impossible to dissuade Erik from his.

Gathering the used cloths and placing them beside the bucket, she reached at her side, pulling the vial free from the sash at her waist. "Open up," she instructed, uncorking the stopper of Erik's elixir.

"I'd rather kiss a camel than endure the taste of that," he pointed a finger at the vial, "Even if it _is_ just one drop."

"Come now, I have no time to coax you into taking this. Believe me, I'd rather not have you reacting in ways I find most disturbing for a man of your character, but there is no other choice. My brother said you'd need a second dose, so please, just take it," her eyes softened, persuading him to cooperate.

Nadir opened his mouth and she held his chin steadily, placing a drop upon his tongue. His face soured immediately as the taste of the elixir filled his mouth.

"Allah, help me!" He cringed. "This is excruciatingly foul on all levels!" He gasped.

Pulling a silver container from her other side, she popped the cover with her thumb. "Drink this," she suggested.

"Please, no more. I've had enough," he waved her off.

She placed the tiny bottle within his hand. "It'll help. Trust me."

Hesitantly, he did as she advised, bringing the bottle to his lips and tasting the contents carefully. The mixture was smooth, sweet like honey, yet not as thick. He downed the liquid, emptying the container easily.

"Thank you," he smiled, handing her the silver container. He laid against the floor, resting his hands upon his chest. "That definitely helped," he sighed gratefully. "What was it?"

"Oh," she hesitated briefly, "just a mixture I concocted of this and that," she tucked the bottle aside at her waist.

Nadir turned on his side, propping his head in his hand. "What sort of _this_ and _that_?" He inquired further.

"It's probably best that you don't know," she explained. "You're feeling better now, that's all that matters, right?" She smiled.

He watched her closely as she looked around the room, her eyes avoiding his. "What did you give me?"

"The ingredients are all natural, I promise you," she assured him.

"Alhena?" His voice rose in suspicion.

"Well," she looked at him sincerely, "it's good for the body." In a whisper, she finished, "…the female body."

"What?" Nadir was outraged, suddenly feeling queasy. "Tell me I won't suddenly be blossoming over night," he sighed. "I swear, you and your brother will be the death of me should I make it out of here tonight."

She rolled her eyes, collecting her items from the floor. "Quit your whining. The most that concoction will do is free you from headaches and any discomfort during your monthly cycle. The latter being if you were female, though with the way _you're _carrying on…" Her words hung between them, her point being made.

"Do you find this amusing, Alhena? Do you have _any _idea what this does to the male psyche?" He groaned. "You've given me something clearly made for a woman!" He shook his head in dismay.

Ignoring him, she walked toward the door. "Get some rest and _maybe_ I'll check in on you later, when you're not being such a child." She exited the cell without looking back at him.

"If I begin to give milk later, I'll be very upset!" Nadir snorted in derision, as the door to the cell shut.

He then noticed she had left behind a letter, outlining a plan she had conceived with her brother in regards to what was to happen tonight. He read intently, memorizing each line. _"Erik's either a genius or completely insane… perhaps both, but I do believe this just may work!"_ He folded the letter as best he could, as he walked over to the far corner of the room. He slid the letter within the small crack of the stone wall, certain no one would come across it. _"The evening should be quite exciting indeed,"_ he mused. For the first time since being imprisoned, hope was upon his horizon. There was nothing left for him to do now, but wait.

Resting against the coolness of the floor, he ran his hands idly over his chest, while pondering the plans in the letter. Realizing how ridiculous he looked doing this, he let his hands drop to his sides. "Women…" he sighed aloud.

* * *

Ranier slammed the door hard, waking Sebastien and Jean from their respective sleep. He kicked a chair over in anger, furious at himself for letting Guifford scare him as he did. _"I should have gutted that sorry son of a bitch!"_ His anger subsided abruptly as he looked over at the beds and saw Jean leveling a pistol at him from where he lay. 

"Be quiet," Jean warned, lowering the pistol back upon the nightstand.

Ranier watched as the gun was lowered. "I'm sorry. It's just been a bad day already."

"What the hell is your problem?" Sebastien demanded, rubbing his bleary eyes.

Scowling, Ranier righted the chair he had kicked and slumped down upon it. "I'm sick of this place…Faraj, the desert, this whole damned continent!"

"We'll be leaving soon enough." Sebastien rose and walked over to the attached bathroom. "We are to return to France with le Comte, to ensure the arrangements he has promised Faraj are upheld."

"What?" Ranier couldn't believe what he was hearing, "A month of travel with that egotistical fop and his whores?" He spat the words out. "I'll kill them all within the first week, I swear it!"

As Sebastien relieved himself, he missed the declaration, but Jean did not. Still lying down, he stared hard at Ranier. "You'll do as you're told like the good little soldier you are, Ranier."

Jean was not known for speaking much. He found that his quiet demeanor lent itself nicely to rumors about him and his effectiveness in individual disputes. One always had to wonder what he was up to. No one could ever imagine what to expect from him, and that's the way he preferred it.

Ranier flinched inwardly as Jean's words echoed the ones he'd used on Guifford earlier. "You think you can boss me around like I am your servant!" He blustered, placing a hand on the hilt of his knife for emphasis. "I've half a mind to cut you for that!"

Smiling, Jean beckoned him forward. "Try. See how far you get."

"Maybe another time," he suggested, intimidated by Jean's audaciousness, "Besides, I'm not going to kill the friend of my boss."

"That's what I thought," Jean snickered. "I sincerely doubt you'd even mark me anyway. Honestly, you're really not that good. And when you fail, I'd be sure to only shoot you in the gut instead of the chest, so you'd die a slow and painful death." He sat up and egged him on further, suddenly yelling at Ranier. "So, come on, and do it!" Jean's eyes went wild before him. "I dare you," he sneered.

Backing off, Ranier answered carefully. "I don't take orders from someone who's clearly insane! You're not in charge of me, Jean!"

"But I am," Sebastien opened the door and glared at him from the doorway. "Now, what are you two on about?"

"Nothing of dire importance," Jean replied, the left side of his mouth twisted up in an amused smile. "Ranier and I just had a disagreement about our places in the grand scheme of things. That's all."

Sebastien slid into his shirt and sat upon his bed, leaning forward to put his boots on. "Well knock it off. We have a party to attend to tonight and a long road ahead of us tomorrow, so make your preparations while I go talk to Faraj."

"No problem, mon ami. Ranier and I can discuss this another time," Jean replied, throwing a sinister wink at the little man. "Any time, in fact," he finished, preparing to get dressed also.

* * *

Entering his room, Erik found Raoul, Meg, and his wife, sitting around the table. They all turned their heads in his direction as he entered. "What's this?" He asked curiously. He needed them all together anyway, but hadn't expected to find them huddled about before him. 

Raoul stood up and walked over to Erik. "I was just given this," he handed him the invitation Ranier had given him. "Did you know about it?"

"I was told by Alhena, late last night," he replied, nodding as he read.

"But I thought we had three days?" Raoul asked, wondering if they'd have enough time to prepare in such short noticed.

"As did I, but it appears that unfortunate circumstances has forced us to hasten our plans," Erik explained, as he removed his cape, draping it across the back of a chair.

"How is this to work then?" Raoul continued. "I can't possibly help you down below, if I am to be expected as a guest tonight."

"There's a benefit to every unforeseen predicament, Comte. You will make your appearance as requested. He doesn't suspect you, but I fear he's become suspicious of my sister. I ask that you keep a close eye on her this evening, as she's been called upon again to cater to Faraj and his guests tonight," he announced, pacing the room in contemplation.

Christine stood up from her chair, looking upon her husband inquisitively as he paced the room. "Erik? What has happened?"

Stopping in his tracks, he looked at her directly. "There was an altercation in the alleyway across from here, which means Faraj will more than likely be suspecting something to befall his bath house tonight. Though he will never expect, nor be prepared, for the likes of me," he informed her confidently.

"That man is ruthless," Meg shuddered at the memories of her brief time with the overlord. "Do you really think Monsieur Khan's rescue will be easy if that brute knows?"

"There's nothing easy about what lies ahead, Madame, but rest assured, tonight we _will_ succeed," Erik replied with certainty.

Disquieted by the news, Christine could no longer contain her fears. "I don't like this, Erik. I don't like this at all."

"Christine," he walked up to her, "there is no other way. Nadir will die tonight if I don't free him from that place."

"I know," she sighed in frustration. "I just wish it didn't have to come to this. I'm afraid I'll lose you, Angel, and I couldn't bear it. Not after everything we've been through," she placed her hands upon her stomach concernedly, "_especially_ now."

He brought his hands up to meet her face, tracing her cheeks tenderly. "I've been through way too much to let something like this come between us. Death will come for me _after _I've lived a full life beside you and not before, mon amour. I promise you."

She wrapped her arms around him suddenly, trying to keep her tears at bay.

"Christine," he whispered, "there's not much time. I must finalize the plan with le Comte."

She nodded against his chest and then freed him from her grasp, quickly turning in the direction of the open window. As she left his side, she wiped at her eyes and stifled a sob. Though her fears weighed heavily upon her, she wanted to remain strong for him.

Meg got up from her chair, giving the men a chance to talk. She walked over to Christine, hoping to comfort her as best she could.

Erik took a seat across from Raoul, immediately going over the plan and possibilities that may or may not occur.

Both girls looked out of the window, anxiety mounting, as they overheard the finer details of their husbands meticulously described course of action.

* * *

Alhena returned to her room to get her own things in order for tonight. She locked the door upon entering and immediately began packing the few belongings and keepsakes she would miss if she left them behind. 

A golden frame, which secretly contained a letter addressed to the Sultan of Morocco, was the first item she grabbed. The letter was written by his daughter, her final words before throwing herself from the balcony of the room in which they once shared. Alhena stifled a sob, missing the company of her closest friend, as she placed the item solemnly within the small sack she had prepared.

Pausing a moment, she reflected upon an ornate hairbrush one of her more amorous patrons had given her in her earlier days at the house. She remembered that it had angering Faraj to the point of having that patron's hands severed at the wrists. She sighed, wiping a tear from her right eye, before adding it amongst her possessions.

A few more assets were added to her bag before she claimed the final item, a jeweled dagger she had stolen from Faraj long ago. He had killed another one of the servants for the theft, and she'd had it hidden ever since. It served as a reminder of how fragile her life was here in this place.

A knock on her door brought her from her reverie. Immediately she flung the bag under the bed, and swiftly moved to answer it.

"Unlock this door or I shall do it for you, my dear," Faraj's voice called from the hall.

"_Damn that man. His timing is as terrible as always," _she thought, as she pulled the door open. "Yes?"

"Greetings, my Tigress," Faraj reached out a hand to caress her face. "I just wanted to make sure you were well and prepared for tonight."

"Why wouldn't I be?" She asked. "Besides, it's just another night for us servants, attending to your drunken friends, listening to their slurred words, and slapping their roaming hands away. So much _fun_ I can barely stand it," she finished, clasping her hands together in a sarcastic swoon.

Faraj smiled. "My dear, you will find tonight to be unlike any you have ever had, or will again." He leaned forward to meet her face, noting her puzzled expression. "Now, go attend to our friend in the basement one last time. You and he can make your peace with God."

"What is that supposed to mean?" She snapped at him, suddenly cold in the pit of her stomach.

"Oops, I fear that came out wrong. I meant you should _go_ _help him_ make peace with God," he laughed. "Sorry about that."

"As you wish, master," she bowed, suddenly afraid as she closed the door on him.

The fact that she was here and the two guards following her had not reported, told Faraj all he needed to know. _"She's betrayed me, but how will this brother of hers come into play? Could the Comte be a part of this scheme too?" _He shrugged his massive shoulders. He would need to question Guifford again, to find out for certain._ "In any case, it matters not,"_ he determined, thinking of what lay ahead. No one would stop him from carrying out the punishments he had planned for tonight. _"Alhena and the stranger's deaths shall serve as a warning to those who would ever think about challenging me!"_

* * *

Shortly after Faraj left, Alhena made sure everything she needed was stowed away in her bag before cinching the cord tight and hiding it once more beneath her bed. She took a few moments to lay out an elaborate dress before collecting the usual items to bring to the dungeon. 

As she descended the stairs, she wondered if this would truly be for the last time. She was uneasy about Faraj's seeming unconcern about her whereabouts, but she had to hope it was just her nerves eating at her resolve. She was determined to go through with their plan and vowed to see Nadir to his freedom.

"So you've decided to see me after all?" Nadir grinned, as she entered his cell.

"I can leave if you prefer to be alone." She made a mock attempt to exit.

He gave her a look of ridiculous pity and replied. "No, I think I can bear looking at you again if I must."

There wasn't much more she could do now that she hadn't done earlier. Opting to change his bandages for fresh ones, she laid out several long strips of cloth. "How are you feeling?" Alhena asked after a time, wondering how the second dose of Erik's potion had taken effect.

"I am as well as can be expected, given the circumstances," Nadir admitted, looking around at the bleak surroundings.

"Did you read the letter I left you?" She whispered.

"Yes," he replied in turn.

"Good. Then you will know when to be prepared," she nodded. "Tonight you will be free," she reassured him, convincing herself in the process.

"Indeed," he answered softly, tilting his head to consider her countenance in the flickering torchlight.

Alhena raised an eyebrow. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I'm merely admiring your soft features against the light."

"_Not again,"_ she sighed in disappointment. "Listen to me," she grabbed his shoulders firmly. "Get a hold of yourself. You must not let the elixir control you."

"Relax. I am of sound mind and body. I just wished to remember you a final time, so that I know what I'll be fighting for."

She turned her head away, "I'm not any type of reward for your delusional fantasies to win over."

"You misunderstand me," he spoke quietly.

She considered his words cautiously. "How so?"

"I know this place has been as cruel to you as it's been for me… more so in fact, for I have only been here a few days. I would gladly endure whatever tortures await me, if it meant you could avoid or forget everything you've been through."

She shook her head in dismissal. "What's done is done. All I need for you to do now is get out of here alive."

An extreme rush of adrenaline coursed through his veins. "I plan on walking out of here with you at my side," he stated, standing tall before her.

The piercing look he gave her was almost dizzying. "You're getting ahead of yourself again," she turned to walk away from him, her cheeks beginning to flush.

Catching her arm, he stopped her in her tracks. "Alhena?"

"What?" She huffed impatiently.

Instantly he pulled her close and kissed her soundly, his arms wrapping around her curvaceous figure in a vice-like grip. She tried to push him away at first, but then her body relaxed. To her surprise, she found the warmth of his lips pleasing against hers.

Feeling that she had finally given in to him, their lips parted slowly. As he looked at her in utter fascination, without warning, she slapped him hard across the face.

He brought his hand up to meet his stinging cheek as she exited, but not before adding, "Right about now, your true self would apologize profusely, but I think you actually enjoyed that enough _not_ to be sorry for it," she scolded him.

Nadir grinned. "I do believe I'm not the only one that took pleasure from that brief encounter," he bowed, smiling as her blushing face was captured for an instant in the light.

Without a word, she closed the door and fled back upstairs flustered, leaving everything she had brought with her behind. She felt strangely warm, more so than usual in the harsh, desert climate.

* * *

After saying their goodbyes, Erik and Raoul rode against time to make it to The Jeweled Moon before nightfall. They were making good time, Erik upon Atreus and Raoul upon Thyestes. 

"No offense, de Chagny, but Nadir will be riding with you once we get out of there," Erik informed him.

"None taken. I'd rather not be in close proximity of your sister," Raoul admitted, thinking back on his uncomfortable encounter with Alhena. He cringed at the thought of almost being made a eunuch.

Erik laughed, amused at Raoul's apprehension toward his twin. It was notably similar to how he had reacted toward himself for the longest time. _"Perhaps in time he'll be more tolerant toward Alhena… that is, if she allows it,"_ he smiled inwardly.

There was still a bit of an edge between Erik and Raoul, but a mutual understanding had come about the day he had showed up at The House of Roses, asking them to perform at the grand reopening of the Opera Populaire. By no means were these two men friends, not that either one of them would ever admit to openly, but at least for today they were not at odds with one another. _"Though, the day is only half over,"_ Erik grinned, the vision of strangling Raoul with his bare hands entertaining him briefly as they rode.

Raoul addressed his masked companion, interrupting him from his thoughts of various forms of strangulation. "Do you really believe it's wise to make those bold promises to your wife?"

"What do you mean?" Erik asked, not fully paying attention.

"What you said about death. Things don't always happen by way of design. There's no fool proof way to know with certainty what will or will not happen. I may not speak of tonight, but rather the future."

Erik shrugged. "I try not to think that far ahead. I merely concentrate on what's before me in my _immediate_ future."

"I just don't think it's proper to allow Christine such hopes that are quite honestly beyond even your expectations."

"I do not tell you how to run your life or marriage, Comte, and I thank you to stay the _hell_ out of mine," he warned.

With a nod of respect, Raoul conceded, not wanting to make an issue of it. _"For Christine's sake, I hope I've at least given him something to think about."_

As they came closer to their destination, Erik nodded Raoul ahead, and veered Atreus toward the dry riverbed. Raoul waved him off and sped away upon Thyestes toward the front of the bath house.

**-XXX-**

"_Right on time,"_ Erik thought, arriving at the foot of the thicket, and looking out toward the west. The crest of the sun disappeared, giving way to his preferred hour. Night surrounded him as he secured Atreus as before and then he headed toward the secret passageway.

**-XXX-**

Raoul slowed his pace to a gallop, as he approached the two guards stationed outside of the tall broken arch double doors. Coming to a stop, he dismounted, and handed the reins to the man nearest him.

"Comte," the other man bowed, "My master awaits your presence." He opened the door and called for another guard to escort him to Faraj.

As he waited a few moments, Raoul could see other horses and carriages approaching in the distance. He turned to thank the man outside, before entering the bath house. With a nod, he followed his guide down the hall and toward the study.

* * *

Christine had been at the window since Erik and Raoul had left. He had glanced up at her from the street below, before riding off in haste. She could still see him as clearly as if he stood before her. _"It was as if he were looking at me for a final time,"_ she thought uneasily. 

"Meg," she paused, watching the last of the golden rays disappear into the darkening sky, "we must join them."

"Christine, what are you saying?" She walked over to her dearest friend, placing a hand upon her shoulder. "You heard what they said. It would be much too dangerous for us."

"They could use our help," she stressed. "They're vastly outnumbered."

"But what can we do? We are but two women." Meg shook her head, dismissing her proposal. "We'd just be in their way, Christine."

"Maybe you're right, but I can't just sit here and do nothing," she said firmly.

"But we must. You are with child, mon ami. You should be thinking about the baby," she emphasized.

Christine threw her hands up in frustration. "Why must everyone remind me? Do you all think I am unaware of the position I'm in?"

"Christine, we all care for you a great deal. Your health and that of your baby is most important right now," she chided her.

"What's important is that this child grows up with a father, not a memory, Meg." She began to twist her fingers in knots. "I have a terrible feeling about tonight."

"I worry about them too, but we must have faith," she pleaded desperately, hoping to dissuade Christine's decision.

"I do have faith," she walked to the side of the bed, "in us making the journey safely and aiding in Nadir's rescue by any means necessary." She pulled the small drawer of the nightstand open, and began to remove the dagger and pistol Raoul had given her.

"Christine, please don't do this. We must do as we were told," she protested strongly.

Securing the dagger in place, Christine headed toward the door. "You can't talk me out of this. I'm going with or without you, Meg, but I would prefer if you came with me."

Meg blocked the doorway, her arms spread out, determined not to let Christine pass. "I cannot allow this. It's insanity!"

"Out of my way, Meg," she instructed firmly.

"Christine, be reasonable! You could die out there!" Meg shivered.

"So could they!" Christine cried out. "Your husband's out there too. Not just mine." She grabbed hold of Meg's shoulders and spoke seriously. "We could sit here and hope beyond all hope that they come back to us alive, but what if they don't? What then? I'd rather die fighting at my husband's side then live a lifetime without him, _knowing_ that I could have done something…anything! Do you understand?" She placed the pistol into Meg's hand. "Help me," she begged her.

Meg thought about her life before Raoul and what it would be like without him. The latter was something she cared not to ever find out, knowing all that she did now. A sudden thought hit her as she held the pistol warily. "I might be able to make the odds more favorable for us," she tucked the pistol away at her side.

"What do you mean?" Christine asked curiously.

Meg began to tie her hair up in a ponytail. "Promise me you'll wait here."

"Meg, where are you going?" She asked, wondering what she was up to.

"Christine, just promise you won't leave without me." She grabbed her outing jacket from the long sofa and put it on.

"I promise," Christine answered sincerely. "But where…"

Meg spoke in haste, interrupting her. "I will return shortly." She moved toward the door and unlocked it. "Trust me," she smiled back at a stunned Christine before closing the door behind her.

Exiting The Crystal Orchid, Meg made her way toward The Seven Veils, carefully considering everything she would say to the man she was about to meet.

Coming to a stop before the inn, she took a final breath before she entered.

Heading straight to the front desk, she immediately addressed the deskman. "Hello. I was wondering if you could help me. There's a man that's staying here and I was hoping you would be able to tell me what room he is in?"

"And his name?" The deskman asked, prepared to flip through the guestbook before him.

Meg bit her lower lip, not knowing the man's surname. "I only know his first name. It's Guifford."

The name was familiar to him, as he ventured to ask, "Heavyset man and an odd, round hat?" He scratched his head behind the desk.

"Yes, that would be him." She was certain of it.

"He's checked out already," the deskman announced simply.

Meg panicked, "How long ago?"

"Five… maybe ten minutes," he gathered. "He went out back to saddle up his horse and…"

"Thank you!" Meg rushed off, waving at him as she excited The Seven Veils instantly.

As she approached the stables, she spotted Guifford securing the strap of the saddle beneath his mount. She advanced with caution, stopping a few yards away from him.

"I'd like a word, Monsieur." She spoke loud enough to catch his attention.

"Comtesse?" He looked up from his crouched position. "What are you… How did you know…" he struggled with his words, completely caught off guard.

"How I've come to be here is not important," she informed him.

With a confused look on his face, he asked, "Why have you sought me out then?"

"There is something I must ask," she spoke seriously.

"Do you not fear me, Comtesse?" He questioned, still surprised to see her standing before him.

"That all depends on how you answer my question, but be advised I have a pistol and I am very capable of using it, should you try anything foolish, Monsieur."

He chuckled, pulling the last strap tight against the belly of his horse. "Ask what you will then, but be quick about it. I must return to my friends."

"Is that what you believe?" She wondered.

Guifford furrowed his brow. "I don't understand the question."

"That those evil men are your friends?" she continued.

"They keep my family fed," he replied, knowing his answer was hollow before it even left his lips.

"At what cost? Do you not tire of their crude remarks?" She reminded him. "You held me in your arms as we rode to the bath house. I could feel your anger even then."

Thinking back on their trip, and the hours of constant abuse, he shook his head trying to clear the image. "It's a small price to pay to keep my pockets full," he said simply.

"Do you not wish for more?" She pressed on. "How could a life such as this be your only choice?"

"Carpentry did not garner much work in my hometown of Compiègne. My children were starving to death when I came across Ranier and he offered me a job at his side. My life and my family's lives are better now," he reasoned with her.

Her jaw dropped slightly in disbelief. "Are they?" The fact that he would believe a life of crime was something to ensure his family's well-being disappointed her.

"S'il vous plaît, Comtesse, I don't see where this conversation is going and I must be on my way," he replied, her questions making him uneasy.

"How often do you go home? Or are you even allowed to do so? I imagine you are hardly home, if at all. That, Monsieur, is a travesty in itself."

He turned to face her, staring down at her small frame, silhouetted against the twilight. "And what do you propose? I can't possibly decide to up and leave and not expect some sort of reprisals for my actions."

"What if I offer an alternative?" She suggested.

"And what might that be?" He inquired.

"Work for me," she insisted.

Guifford laughed at the absurdity. "And how is that supposed to keep me from having to look over my shoulder for the rest of my life. I'm afraid it's not that easy, Comtesse."

"Aid me this night and I _promise_ you will be free of them all," she declared.

"If only I could be certain that were true. I admit that your offer is very tempting, but I can't afford to take that risk, doubting that you will be able to uphold to your promise.

"Are you not taking those very risks now? I know you delivered that letter to my husband from Alhena. There is a reason she trusted you, as I am trusting you now."

Guifford groaned in frustration. "You don't know what you are asking of me."

"I wouldn't be here if I wasn't sure about you. You were the only one that cared enough about me while the others treated me poorly. Help me and all this will end tonight," she tried to convince him.

"What exactly will I be aiding in, _if_ I did decide to help you?"

"The safe recovery of the man Faraj holds prisoner," she admitted.

"Impossible!" He scoffed. "Even now he's being prepared for his execution. There is absolutely no way to get to him. He's as good as done for."

"I assure you, Monsieur, as we speak, a plan is being set in motion."

"You mean your husband and Alhena's brother? I hardly consider that an army. They have no idea what they'll be up against if they're caught, which odds are pretty damn good they will be."

Surprised of what he knew, her words began to falter. "You… you know of…"

"I've known since the morning of your return," he admitted up front. "I don't claim to be a genius, Comtesse, but I am far from the idiot everyone believes me to be," he sighed.

Afraid of what he may have divulged to his present employer, she attempted to find out. "Did you… tell anyone?"

"Fear not," he answered, noticing she was visibly distraught. "I didn't tell Faraj or anyone else for that matter. I've reached my boiling point where that man is concerned. As a matter of fact, the same can be said for Ranier. Why, just today he tried to bully me into doing his messenger job," he began, explaining the events of the morning to her.

Meg was uninterested in what had happened between him and Ranier. _"This is no time for idle chit chat."_ Though she was thankful he had not said a word to Faraj, her current concern was whether he would aid her or not. "Does this mean you will help me then?" She cut in, her eyes glinting with a spark of hope.

Guifford weighed his options briefly. He had not been home in over three years and it was very likely to be another two or more years before his next visit. _"I either take my chances in the company of this young woman before me or spend countless years at Ranier's side."_ The answer seemed quite logical to him, yet he had one final question to ask before he would even consider her proposal.

"I've already told you why I've taken this job. The money I am able to provide for my family has kept them from living a life of poverty and starvation," he began. "I am not proud of what I do, but I must admit I am good at it. Normal employment had not been available to me when I needed it most and this is all I've known for many years now." He watched Meg nodding her head in understanding, as he continued with his final question. "I don't mean to sound so crass, but what is it that you can offer me?"

"It's a valid question and you have the right to worry where your family is concerned. Let me begin by saying you will be compensated for your troubles, Monsieur. In fact, my husband is in charge of several businesses. I'm sure he can find you a more suitable job, an honest one to compliment your true skills," she answered readily. "In fact, a carpenter would be a welcome addition in building a new room for a friend of mine who is expecting a baby."

Having decided, he smiled agreeably. "Then, Comtesse," he bowed as best he could, "I am at your service."

* * *

As the guests were arriving, Faraj paced the study, confident that all the preparations had been made for this evening. It would be an intimate affair, no more than fifty or so, but more than enough that word would spread to others around the region. Tonight they would all know that he was a man of action, a man to be respected and feared. The unveiling of The Master's Conundrum, would no doubt earn him a reputation of incomparable cruelty as well. _"Tonight they will all bear witness to my greatness!" _He grinned evilly.

* * *

**Author's Note**  
If you're all wondering why I haven't gone to great lengths to describe the actual "plans," it's because it will become clearer as they all venture through The Jeweled Moon. It's formatted as such in order to bring the "surprise" aspect to each update to come. Thanks for all the great reviews on the last update. This chapter is pretty much a filler, necessary to bring everything together, so I apologize in advance if it's a bit lacking. The summer has been taking up a lot of my free time as of late, so I am sorry for the lapse in updating. I'm currently working on the next installment, so I'm working frantically to bring that one to you all by Monday (I'm changing my updates from Friday to Monday, since it fits better for me, due to the summertime). The next update, as promised, will bring us into the bath house, so keep those seatbelts securely fastened for the beginning of the end game! It'll be a series of several chapters, so don't expect it to end so quickly. -wink- Therese (seablue4u), thanks for braving the waters and coming out of lurkdom. Welcome aboard! -hugs- 


	26. Chapter 26

**CHAPTER 26**

Christine anxiously paced the room, waiting for Meg's return. She had no clue as to where the girl had gone, but she hoped she would return soon. Eager to head out to the bath house, and to aid in Nadir's rescue, she pondered their places in what was to come. _"I only pray we're not too late."_ She looked out of the window, hoping to spot her friend amongst the activity of the street below her.

"_Where can Meg be?"_ She asked herself. No sooner had that thought come and gone, when the sound of a key was heard within the lock of the room door.

As Meg appeared from behind it, Christine let out a sigh of relief. "Meg! Thank God, you're back. I was beginning to…" She paused, seeing a fairly large man emerge from behind Meg as she stepped into the room. Taking a few steps back, she wondered what was going on.

"Christine, it's okay. Monsieur Marceau is here to help us," Meg assured her, seeing the instant worry in Christine's eyes.

"Monsieur Marceau?" Christine questioned, recognizing him as one of the men in Alhena's room the night she and Erik were out on the balcony of his sister's room.

"This is Guifford, the man I told you about," Meg explained, having been told of his surname on the way back to The Crystal Orchid.

"But he works for Faraj! How can he be trusted?" Christine backed away cautiously, unsure what to think of the man before her.

Guifford removed his bowler's hat, nervously gripping the rim within his pudgy fingers. "Madame," he began to address Christine, bowing his bald head in respect. "You have no need to fear me. I've promised my services to le Comtesse and my loyalties belong to her and those in her company."

"I…I don't understand," she shook her head. "Meg? Are you sure this is wise?"

Meg turned to Guifford. "I'll be but a moment. Please, wait right here," she asked him quietly.

With a nod, Guifford waited by the door as Meg left his side and approached Christine. "I know this is a lot for you to take in right now, but I promise I will explain it all on the way. What's most important is that you trust me."

"But, Meg…"

"Christine, please," she continued abruptly. "He knows that place better than we do."

"He was a part of your abduction," she whispered, leaning closer to Meg. "What if he turns us in to Faraj?"

Though Guifford had promised to help her, the thought of him going back on his word was something Meg had not bothered to think about seriously. She looked over to him a moment. The room was pleasantly cool, yet he seemed to be sweating profusely. He reached into his pocket, pulling a handkerchief free and wiped the beads of perspiration from his forehead. As he attempted to return the cream colored cloth to his pocket, he missed, clumsily dropping it to the floor. He bent to retrieve it, smiling back at her as he got up, waving the hanky in turn, and then realized how ridiculous he looked. Embarrassed, his cheeks flushed as he quickly shoved the handkerchief back into his pocket and stood up. _"It may be against my better judgment, but surely that man is much too innocent to go against his promise to me."_ Meg smiled back at him before turning to Christine once more.

"He won't betray us, mon ami. I've promised him a better life. If he cares as much for his family as he claims, he will go through with this without fail," she replied confidently.

Christine was still hesitant, but there was no time to argue the case at this point. Though she had reservations, she was determined to find out more about him on the way to the bath house and would decide for herself whether or not he could be trusted.

"Christine? Are you alright?" Meg asked concernedly.

"We've wasted too much time already," she answered Meg and then looked over to Guifford. "Monsieur Marceau? Do you have a horse?"

"Oui, Madame, I…"

"Good," she interrupted him. "Take le Comtesse with you and meet me out front. I'll secure a mount for myself from the proprietor downstairs."

"Very well," Guifford bowed.

"Now, go and be quick, Meg," she motioned her off with both hands. "I'll join you shortly."

Guifford and Meg left the room, leaving Christine alone in her thoughts for the moment. _"I trust Meg's judgment, but I will keep a close eye on that man regardless."_

* * *

As Raoul was led down the hall toward the master's study, Faraj prepared two glasses and a vintage bottle of Louis XIII de Rémy Martin, the highest quality of cognac from France. It had been a gift from Philippe, which he found only fitting to welcome his predecessor's long awaited replacement. 

The two eunuchs which stood guard outside of the study, moved to open the golden arch doors as Raoul and his guide arrived.

"Comte Raoul de Chagny," the guide announced formally to his master.

"Ah, Comte! You're here early," Faraj beamed, welcoming him inside.

"Not by much," Raoul answered, explaining the other guests were not too far behind him as he rode up.

"Leave us, Nazim," Faraj ordered his guard.

With a curt bow, the guard left the two men to their business, closing the doors as he exited the room.

"I half expected you to be across the Sahara, on your way back to your beloved France," Faraj mentioned, as he reached out to shake Raoul's hand from behind his desk.

As expected, Raoul reiterated what Erik suggested he say should Faraj question him on this subject. "I do miss the comforts of home, but I must confess, the reason why I've stayed is to make sure you receive the funds I've given you. I'm meticulous when it comes to matters of business," he explained efficiently.

Faraj motioned to the seat across from him. "A man after my own heart!" He laughed as he wrapped his hands around the crystal bottle and pulled the fleur-de-lis stopper free. "Well then, care to join me in a drink before we move to the entertainment hall?"

"Don't mind if I do," Raoul replied, as he seated himself.

"I think you will appreciate this." Faraj partially filled a glass and handed it to Raoul before pouring his own. "Your brother was quite the connoisseur of fine drink."

With his right hand turned upward, Raoul cradled the underside bowl of the brandy snifter, swirling the contents briefly and inhaling the aromatic scent of the liquid before wetting his palette. "My brother was quite compulsive when it came to drinking," he admitted freely.

Faraj decided to broach the subject, already knowing Raoul would answer more conclusively. "And you are not?"

"I drink socially, when the occasion merits it, not to simply become foolhardy and lecherous. As I've said before, I am not my brother, and in respect to the delicacies of fine spirits at least, I hope to prove more refined than he was." Raoul raised his glass to the large man before him and took another sip from his glass.

Faraj extended Raoul's courtesy with his glass raised high, "Truly well spoken, Comte. You are certainly not as Philippe once was. In you, I see before me a man coming of age, above the likes of the slovenly men around us. This, my friend, is good for business and I shall enjoy your partnership for many years to come."

Raoul nodded his head in agreement, though he was secretly disgusted by the charade he had to maintain. _"I'll be glad when this night is over!" _He couldn't wait to return to France and get back to a normal way of life.

"So tell me," Faraj topped off his glass before taking another sip, "where's the little woman tonight?"

"Pardon?" Raoul asked, still lost within his thoughts of home.

"So soon do we forget those that wish to contain us?" Faraj chuckled. "One could hardly blame us nor be surprised for acting upon our most deep seeded desires. We are, after all, men," he pointed out.

Raoul furrowed his brow quizzically, his lack of understanding growing by the second. "I'm sorry? I'm not much for riddles."

"Oh, but you see, I am. Though, that's neither here nor there. I'll save that for later," Faraj grinned in contemplation.

"If you insist," Raoul shrugged and raised his glass to his lips once more.

"Allow me to apologize and I shall start over," Faraj suggested, seeing the puzzled look on Raoul's face.

Raoul emptied his glass and set it upon the desk. "Please, continue."

"What I am asking is," Faraj refilled Raoul's glass and handed it back to him, "where your lovely wife is tonight?"

"Oh, Meg!" The sudden spark of recognition hit him instantly, finally understanding what Faraj was going on and on about. "You must forgive me. I tend not think about her when I've come here to partake in things," he cleared his throat, "shall we say, _unbecoming_ of a husband."

"_Now_ we're getting somewhere!" Faraj boasted heartily. "I knew you had it in you to play the game."

"Indeed," Raoul smirked.

Faraj leaned back into his chair. "You know, I've asked Alhena to take care of us tonight. Perhaps you'd like to finish where you left off with her?"

Raoul forced a wicked grin. "What kind of man would I be to refuse? Though, I was hoping to see what other surprises your humble abode might have to offer me."

"There are plenty, but I suggest you take advantage of Alhena's talents before the night is through." Swishing his drink around in his glass, Faraj continued. "An opportunity such as this will not be available tomorrow."

"Oh?" Raoul was surprised by the declaration. "She's a bit beyond her years to be considered for the slave trade. Does this mean you plan on releasing her from your services?"

"In a matter of speaking," Faraj snickered, taking a longer drink from his glass.

"Are you selling her to another house? A patron?" Raoul pressed on, wondering what the man meant. "If so, you must let me make an offer for her."

"My dear, Comte," he leaned forward, observing him closely, "so many questions. It almost makes me think you care for her more than you allow me to believe."

Raoul laughed, waving his hand in dismissal. "I'm just curious as to why you would let such a beauty go now, given the lengths you've painstakingly gone through to keep her exclusively for your own purposes."

Faraj drained his glass and reached for the cognac bottle to pour yet another serving. "Comte, you are young, and have yet to find out that woman can be the bane of your very existence. You merely need to know that it's her time. Believe me when I say she will know of no other man's touch after tonight." He stood up and swallowed his drink in one swift motion and then brought the glass to rest upon his desk. "Now, this conversation bores me. Let us join the others in merriment, shall we? I promise this night will not soon be forgotten."

Raoul stood up, and moved to follow Faraj. They exited the study together, the master of the house walking purposefully down the hall ahead of him. As they neared the main entrance, they came across a large party of guests, filing into the bath house and gathering there, awaiting their patron.

"Gentlemen!" Faraj called out, grabbing the attention of those clustered in the hallway. "If you'll all be so kind as to follow me, we can enjoy some refreshments while we wait on the latecomers."

Several servants stood ready and attentive, holding platters of food and great flagons of wine as the assorted guests entered the entertainment hall. Faraj continued to walk past the crowd as they jostled around each other to find seating. He stopped before a wide marble staircase that led upstairs.

With an inward groan, Raoul craned his neck and watched as Sebastien and Jean entered the room, and made their way through the bustling people to sit directly behind him. Seeing the two men made his fingers itch to pull his pistol out, but he knew the night was young. Freeing Nadir had to be his first priority.

"Comte," Sebastien nodded as he sat, "I'd like to take a moment to welcome you to our little organization."

Raoul shifted in his seat, looking into the eyes of both men. "Well, I didn't have a whole lot of choice after all, but at least the money will be good."

"Absolutely," Sebastien smiled and leaned forward. "In hindsight I regret kidnapping your wife, mon ami. Had I known you would be so amenable to this whole affair, I might have made other arrangements instead."

Keeping the steel out of his voice, Raoul replied, "Think nothing of it. I understand that business is business."

"Excellent point, Comte," Sebastien smiled and relaxed in his chair.

Glancing back and forth between the two men, Raoul continued with a wry smirk, "And everything that happens tonight, will be nothing but pleasure."

Laughing, Sebastien reached out and patted Raoul's shoulder. Not noticing Jean matching the Comte's smirk with equal intensity.

"So are you excited about returning to France?" Sebastien asked.

"I am," Raoul nodded. "Once the funds are cleared, I shall take my leave."

Sebastien furrowed his brow. "Has Faraj not told you?"

"About?" Raoul looked to Sebastien for enlightenment.

"We leave tomorrow. The promissory note you gave Faraj checked out and the money should be transferred by the end of the week," Sebastien explained.

"So soon?" Raoul blurted out in a panic. Quickly, he corrected himself. "I'm thankful for the speedy process, though I was under the impression that it would take weeks to be withdrawn."

"Under normal circumstances, yes, but this," Sebastien stretched his arms out in a grand showing, "is far from what you would call normal."

"In any case, I'd like nothing more than to get out of this God awful wasteland," Raoul pointed out.

"And so we shall. Faraj has asked that we accompany you back home, of course once we reach France we will be parting ways, only to be in each other's company during business negotiations," Sebastien clarified.

Raoul nodded, the conversation rapidly becoming inaudible amongst the growing crowd.

Off to the side, Ranier entered quietly and took a seat in the back, watching the others with distrust and distaste. _"So many fools," _he thought._ "Not a real man among them. And their wretched whores, with their inane babbling, just itching to be silenced." _

As more and more people filed into the grand hall and took their seats, the servants sprang into motion, delivering glasses to the patrons and filling them up rapidly as they went.

Faraj waited for all to be served, watching proudly from his place at the foot of the stairs. Footsteps behind him made him look back. He whistled under his breath in appreciation as Alhena descended the staircase slowly. The look in her eyes challenged all in attendance as her sleek dress clung seductively to her body.

"Now there's a woman able make the most devout priest rethink his vows," Sebastien remarked in awe, unable to look away from her entrance.

Raoul had to concur. While he knew it was Erik's sister, it didn't stop him from admiring her sultry presence, standing out amongst all the others.

Nodding her head at Faraj, she passed him and immediately moved to help the other servants filling glasses. She glanced briefly at Raoul and gave him a quick smile before attending to her duties as inconspicuously as possible.

Faraj watched her longingly, almost regretting the necessity of things to come. As she served the patrons in the west side of the room, he strode over to the east, where Raoul and his two henchmen sat.

At an unseen signal, musicians at the top of the stairs filed out and began to play. The melody was upbeat and moments later several women filed past them and descended partially down the stairs. They moved hypnotically with the beat, spinning and twirling for all in attendance to watch in amazement. The drumbeats kept a crisp rhythm as the dancers moved with the music, captivating everyone watching.

While they danced, Faraj moved off to the side and got Sebastien's attention. "Any news of Guifford tonight?" He whispered in his ear.

Sebastien responded hesitantly, not wanting to anger him. "None, although he's aware of what's happening tonight. Ranier told him when he was in town this morning."

Faraj nodded. "Let me know when he arrives. I've got a few questions for him regarding his assignment."

"He should be here soon, I imagine," Sebastien replied with relief. For now, he had avoided his boss's wrath.

Faraj grunted a reply. He stood back up and watched the dancers, as they spun around on the stairs in time with the music.

* * *

Erik moved down the passageway with caution. Though Alhena had assured him of it's secrecy, he wished to remain alert for any possible occurrences. He held aloft a lit candle that he had grabbed from his saddlebag. It provided him very little illumination but he didn't need anything more. His feet traveled the dimly lit corridor, the darkness concealing his tracks as he moved forward. The deeper he went, the rhythmic sounds of musical instruments became more and more discernable. It told him he was close to his objective. He lowered the candle to the floor and reached out tentatively with his arms, feeling for the catch in the wall his sister had told him about. Confident he had found it, he lashed out with his foot, kicking the candle over and plunging the tunnel into complete darkness. 

"_It is time, my brother,"_ he silently assured Nadir, hoping that his friend could feel his presence within the house. He grasped the lever in his black gloved hand, holding onto his sword with the other. A gust of air hit him as the panel of the wall slid off to the side, surprisingly making almost no noise at all. His eyes caught nothing but empty hallway before him. Swiftly taking note of the shadows that may aid him, he slipped inside. Out of the corner of his eye, he immediately caught a glimpse of a man to his left.

The guard stared at him for a moment too long before fumbling with both the blade and the horn at his belt, unsure of what to make of the anomalous masked man before him.

Erik used the pause to charge the guard, lashing out with his fist and connecting solidly with the man's jaw. As he stumbled backwards, Erik freed his sword and jammed it forward, feeling the steel slide deep within. His gloved hand shot up to cover the guard's mouth, stifling his death cry. As the man sank to the floor, Erik dragged him back into the tunnel, and laid him down.

Coming back inside the hall, he found the wall sconce that Alhena had mentioned and pulled it hard, causing the secret panel to slide shut once again. Looking around, he remembered the layout he'd been given. The kitchens were to his immediate left, the dungeon entrance was straight ahead. Knowing that it would be guarded, he crept in the shadows of the lamplight carefully, hoping the guards would be paying more attention to the music than to the possibility of intrusion.

* * *

Watching the dancers before him, Raoul wondered how Erik was doing down below. Alhena had not made a move to contact him and that had him worried. He was under the impression that she'd be coordinating things between Erik and himself and now there was another matter which made the need to speak with her even more necessary. Unable to control his restlessness any longer, he stood up and walked over to Faraj, noticing he was as enthralled by the dancers as the rest of the patrons. 

"What is it, Comte?" Faraj asked, never taking his eyes off of the display before him.

"After a few glasses of your fine spirits, I believe I'm ready to take you up on your offer," Raoul spoke confidently.

Turning to look at him, Faraj asked, "Which offer was that?"

"I'd like to _'finish where I left off'_ with Alhena," he grinned, hoping the words would jog Faraj's memory.

"But of course, my friend. With the way she looks tonight, I cannot blame you for reconsidering my proposal. Let us hope that this time you have a much more memorable experience than the last," Faraj laughed, signaling to Alhena. "You have about twenty or thirty minutes before the show."

"I'm not like most of your patrons here, Monsieur Ajani. I wish to take my time with her," Raoul stated firmly, attempting to garner more than the allotted time given to him.

"I'm sure that's what you anticipate, but no man lasts that long with my Tigress," he remarked knowingly. "I'll send Ranier for you before we move to the viewing room."

Both men watched intently as Alhena approached.

"Master," she bowed before him and Raoul.

Faraj leered at her. "I want you to take good care of the Comte, my Tigress," he finished with a wink.

"As you wish, my master," Alhena replied stiffly and extended an arm to Raoul. "Come with me then."

"With pleasure," Raoul bowed.

As he followed her out of the hall, he grinned back at Faraj to further keep up with pretenses, and then rushed off in pursuit of his supposed conquest. Disappearing around the corner, he was unaware of the pair of cruel eyes that watched his every move.

Ranier remained in his seat, watching the two leave. In his mind, he entertained the dozens of ways to cruelly slaughter both of them. "_Soon,"_ he thought, his hand grasping the hilt of his long dagger, "_Very soon!"_

**-XXX-**

"Is everything in order?" Alhena whispered to Raoul, as she wrapped her arm within his.

"To my knowledge, yes, but…" he was silenced and she squeezed his arm firmly.

They passed two guards as they turned another corner, swiftly making their way in the direction of her room.

"We'll talk more once we're away from prying eyes," she spoke low, bowing her head as they passed another set of guards.

Finally reaching her quarters, they disappeared beyond the door. She moved to secure the lock, motioning Raoul toward the bed with her free hand.

"Don't get any funny ideas," she smirked, fastening a second lock at the foot of the door. "Granted, you're a lot better looking than the men that are usually up here, but I'm merely offering you a seat."

Nodding, he did as he was told, clasping his hands together as he rested his elbows upon his knees. "You need to get out of here."

"And I will, once this is all over," she answered readily, smoothing out the front of her skirt and walking over to him.

"I mean right now," he insisted strongly.

"What are you talking about?" She took a seat upon her hand-woven rug, bringing her legs up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them.

"Faraj intends to be rid of you tonight. He didn't exactly say how, but I'm certain that he meant it to be _permanent_," he stressed firmly.

"He's _always_ threatening me in some form or another," she shrugged him off dismissively.

"This was different," he looked at her directly. "His eyes revealed a sincerity of purpose. I've seen this same look but twice in my life and believe me, both men were deathly serious about following through with their agendas."

"You can't possibly expect to know what Faraj's motives are from a supposed '_look'_ you may or may not have seen," she rolled her eyes.

"Would you be more prone to believing me if I told you that the two men of which I speak were that of my dead brother, Philippe and your very own brother?"

Alhena looked away momentarily, toward the open balcony, weighing his words more carefully.

"It's not just that, but this whole thing. It's unsettling. Everything is going according to plan, but did you stop to wonder that it all seems almost a bit _too_ easy? Erik told me about what happened in the alleyway with those two men. I have a feeling Faraj knows what to expect and that we are in fact the ones playing right into his diabolical plans." It was not until he had spoken the thought aloud that he realized the truth within his own words.

The silence between them brought Alhena's attention away from the view of the night sky. Turning her head in Raoul's direction once more, she saw the cold sobering look displayed across his face. She leaned forward and placed a steady hand upon his right thigh. "Comte? Are you alright?"

"No," he answered gravely. "You're not safe here and neither is Erik. I'm not entirely sure of my position with Faraj, but I'm confident in buying enough time for you to take whatever it is you need and retrieve Monsieur Khan from the dungeon with Erik's help. You will be safe beside your brother, more so than you would be by remaining up here a moment longer."

An incessant knock interrupted them as they both looked to the locked door. Ranier yelled from behind it annoyingly. "Times up, Comte! Finish up with the whore and clean yourself up. Faraj requests your presence for the big finale!"

"I must go," Raoul stood from his seated position. "Please, do as I've said and make haste."

As he took a step past her, she grabbed his leg. "Wait." She stood up from the floor and faced him. Looking him over, she reached for his midsection and pulled his shirt free from his waist.

"What are you doing?" Raoul asked as he grabbed a hold of her wrists.

"You've just had me, Comte. As such, there's no way you would look as well-kept as you do now. So I'm making the necessary adjustments."

Raoul's grip loosened and she immediately brought her hands above his head, running her hands through his hair carelessly.

"Alright, that's quite enough!" He fussed, unaccustomed to his hair being handled in such a manner.

Looking him over a final time, she cocked her head to the side. "Something's…missing…"

"Wha-" He was silenced as her open hand met the side of his left cheek.

"What the he-" Yet again, her hand met his face, this time on his right.

"Better!" She smiled at her handiwork.

Raoul took a moment to catch his breath, sheer surprise stopping him short of strangling her where she stood.

"Hurry the hell up in there!" Ranier banged against the door once more.

He bid her well, despite her treatment of him mere seconds ago, and turned on his heel to leave her.

As soon as he was gone, she ran to her bedside table, retrieving her two daggers from the bottom drawer, and secured them against each thigh with torn strips of cloth. Falling to her knees, she reached under her bed and grabbed the knapsack she had prepared earlier. She tied a twenty foot cord around it and walked over to the balcony. Securing the other end to the side of the railing, she lowered the bag until it suspended halfway down. She would come back to it once she was outside with Nadir.

Confident that everything was in order, she exited her room and made her way toward the dungeon as fast as she could without drawing attention to herself. Spotting the guards at the entrance to the dungeon, she took a moment to calm her nerves before making her final approach.

Reaching the door, she bowed. "I've come to make sure the prisoner is prepared for my master."

Both guards nodded, allowing her access as they've done several times over the past few days. They closed the door behind her as she stepped in.

Descending the stairs, she cursed her brother, furious that he was nowhere to be found. She had hoped to run into him by now. She shook her head as she came to the bottom of the staircase. She acknowledged the second set of guards with a bow before continuing down the hall to Nadir's cell.

As she opened the cell door, Nadir stood within, greeting her with a simple smile.

"And what are you so happy about?" She asked, thinking the man should be more frantic given the impending circumstances.

"This nightmare will be over shortly. I will be free," he replied simply.

"While I appreciate the sentiment, let's work on both our freedoms, and not in the _'dead by morning sense,' _okay?"

"If you insist," he sighed.

"I do. In fact, I've got something for you. Hopefully something you'll appreciate holding in your hands after so long without it." She gave him a wry smirk and lifted her skirts.

* * *

Erik also moved in time with the music, despite his confidence that his movements were silent. While the hallway was long, it was not especially well lit, the doors leading to various servants' quarters in this wing of the house requiring less light than those in other, more traveled sections. 

Up ahead the hallway branched left and right. He knew the dungeon to be to the left, and the front door and other areas to the right. He found himself wondering how he would be able to distract the two on the left, without alerting the others. With his back to the wall, he came to the end of the hall and looked at an angle down toward the main doors. The guards were none too alert, and far enough away that the music should hide any noises he might make.

A plan forming in his head, he ducked inside the nearest of the servant rooms, grateful that it was empty. He quickly uncoiled his Punjab lasso from around his body and tied the end to the doorknob inside. Leaving the door open just a crack, he lifted one gloved hand to his mouth. "Step aside, fools!" He deftly threw his voice down the hall, hoping it would be just loud enough to catch the attention of the two around the immediate corner.

His skill hadn't left him, nor had his luck. As the two rushed past the door, he slipped behind them and whipped the rope at the neck of the first one. It settled neatly in place as the guard immediately came to the end of it's length, the noose drawing tight and knocking him backwards off his feet. Ignoring him, Erik leapt over the man's prone, struggling form and drew his sword. As the second guard spun around in confusion, all he could see was a wave of blackness in front of his eyes. It parted a moment later, but the vision before him was more terrifying than the darkness. He tried to scream as he saw the firelight dancing upon a demonic masked face lunging at him, but nothing would come out. A moment later he felt the cold flash of steel cutting across his throat, silencing him forever.

Erik spun back around, blood dripping from his blade. The first guard was on his knees, trying to lean backwards and get enough slack to remove the lasso and call for help.

"I don't think so, my friend." Erik strode forward and slashed once, hard across the man's chest. The man gurgled and fell to the ground, trying feebly to crawl away. Worried about the noise, Erik stood over his head and thrust down with his blade, pulling it free when the dying man finally lay still. He looked around the hallway, double checking that no one had observed the display. Satisfied that he was alone, he dragged the bodies inside the servants' quarters, stowing them in a linen closet, stacked on top of each other. He searched them for a moment before coming up with a key on a long leather thong. Its intricate design assured him it was a key to the basement.

Stepping into the hallway, Erik chuckled to himself. _"I'm glad Faraj had the foresight to lay red carpet in this hallway, or I'd be here an hour cleaning up." _As it was, the stains were barely noticeable in the poor light, but he blew out one of the closer lamps just to play it safe.

* * *

Faraj clapped his hands rapidly, a signal for the musicians and dancers to stop. "Enough!" His voice roared. 

The music died out a moment later and the dancers bowed before retreating back up the stairs.

"One and all, I thank you for coming," he began, looking over his audience. "Feel free to bring your drinks with you, as I've got one more surprise for the night."

The crowded hall was filled with noise as people stood up and signaled the servants for various last minute refills. Once completed, they all moved towards Faraj as he stood off the side of the stairs. They watched as he reached out and pushed at the wall tiles in seemingly random order. With a collective gasp, they stared in astonishment as the base of the grand staircase lifted up, revealing another flight of stairs below it.

"Go on down, my friends, and take a seat. I promise you, the show will commence soon," Faraj announced, his hands gesturing for people to come forward.

As the crowd began to descend, they noted that the passageway was well lit. It wasn't long before the stairs ended and a tunnel loomed before them. Following it for a time, they came to an archway, leading into an area of long benches. From their seats, they could look down into a large open room, reminiscent of an ancient arena, but smaller in scale. The murmurs of wonder were loud as they all gazed upon the spectacle of this unknown room.

As the last person entered, Faraj closed the stairwell and left the hall, intending to go prepare his prisoner for this last trial. He strode with a purpose, eager to commence the events, although knowing the man in the basement would die as assuredly as the sun would arise in the morning.

He nodded at the guards at the front door as he passed, moving toward the dungeon. They both bowed in respect, but he was too lost in thought to notice. Frowning, he noted that the guards at the entrance to the dungeon were not there. _"I shall have them both flogged for their lapse in judgment," _he decided, pulling the door open and walking down the spiral staircase.

**-XXX-**

Erik peeked out of the room he occupied with the two dead guards and saw Faraj pass, hoping the missing guards wouldn't be more than a minor issue to the crime lord. He breathed a sigh of relief when the big man didn't stop, and gripped his sword hilt tightly as he disappeared from view completely.

Slipping out of the room nimbly, his gloved hand reached out and snuffed the nearest lamp, granting him a few more feet of shadows to hide in. He hoped it would be enough, as he darted out, slipping the key into the lock as swiftly as possible. Surprised at how quietly the door opened, he silently thanked whatever servant had the job of oiling hinges in the house.

He moved into the darkness of the stairwell, mindful to close the door, letting it latch slowly. He heard voices below and descended carefully, thankful that his dark clothes would offer no reflection from the torchlight below.

**-XXX-**

The two guards at the bottom of the stairs saluted Faraj as he arrived, but he motioned them to silence with a gesture. He moved towards the end of the hall and paused outside the room he knew the prisoner was held in. He was furious as he heard voices within. He signaled to the guards at the far end of the hall to come forward.

**-XXX-**

Erik moved down the stairs until he was low enough to make out the torches lighting the halls beyond the opening. With catlike grace he jumped over the railing, landing with a whisper of sound behind the back of the spiral staircase, not ten feet from the two guards ahead. He watched intently as Faraj and the guards stood outside a cell door listening to the hushed voices inside.

**-XXX-**

"What is this?" Nadir asked in bewilderment as Alhena pressed one of her daggers into his hands.

"A weapon obviously," she replied grabbing the other for herself from it's place of concealment.

"Ah, for a moment I had thought you..." he let the thought trail off, embarrassed at what he'd been hoping for.

"Change of plans, I'm afraid. I've not seen any sign of my brother tonight and I will not let you die in here." She carefully inspected his wounds one last time, smiling grimly as she concluded he would at least be able to follow her, if not necessarily be able to fight.

His brow furrowed, "But the guards…" he began.

"Are lazy and unmotivated," she finished for him. "Hopefully we can take them by surprise, just follow my lead. When we are free, we can both spit a curse upon your so called friend, my brother."

"Erik would never abandon me completely, my dear, and you even less," Nadir said confidently, moving to take her in his arms.

She allowed herself a few long moments in his tender embrace, before breaking it and grabbing his hand. "Come. Let us be gone before Faraj and the rest of his fools find we are missing." She pulled the cell door open, and her eyes grew wide immediately as Faraj and four guards stood before her in the passage. The giant man loomed large in the darkness, the torchlight shining along the length of his massive scimitar.

"Too late, my dear," he grinned and stepped forward, his guards rushing into the room behind him. His hand immediately shot out and grasped her wrist, shaking it as one would shake a doll, smiling in satisfaction as the dagger dropped to the floor with a loud clang.

Nadir stared at the four men before him, their weapons leveled at him. With a resigned shrug, he also let his dagger drop.

"Take him to 'The Master's Conundrum,' but do not harm him _unless_ he resists," Faraj commanded, never taking his eyes off of the cowering beauty before him.

"What of her, my lord?" One of the men asked tentatively.

"I'll see to her punishment..." His eyes grew hard, the fires in them coming from more than just the flames along the walls. "...personally."

**-XXX-**

_"No!"_ Erik cursed to himself, caught in a dilemma. From his position behind the guards, he could see Nadir being pulled into the hall at sword point, while a grinning Faraj held a tight grip about Alhena's arms.

Nadir gave a despairing look at Alhena, fearing more for her safety than his own. He hoped Erik would be able to save her. Or avenge them both if not. As he turned around, he caught a dim reflection from the near end of the hall, behind the spiral staircase leading up. Knowing instantly what it meant, he stared at it meaningfully, nodding once slowly. _"Save her," _Nadir pleaded with his eyes, before standing up straight and allowing himself to be led down the opposite direction.

Faraj pulled the struggling Alhena toward the stairwell. Erik ducked back into the shadows, pulling his black cloak about his face and standing stock still. "Fear not for his safety, my Tigress. You'll be joining him soon, one way or another." Faraj laughed evilly as he dragged her up the stairs, her tears of anger only spurring him on faster.

As the door above closed, confirming their exit, Erik fought the demons within him. "_My sister or my brother?"_ It was a torture he'd never known, tearing at him inside. The image of his brave Persian friend lingered in his mind however, as did the plaintive look in his eyes_. "Forgive me, Daroga…"_ He sped up the stairs in silence hoping he would be in time to save one of them at least.

* * *

**Author's Note**  
I apologize with the delay, but I hope the update was worth the wait. I know, it's a cliffie, but just to warn you all now, most of the future updates will end much like this. As always, thanks for all the positive feedback. You are the ones that keep me inspired and motivated to continue with my little Phantom tale. -hugs everyone- 

**Disclaimer**  
I am not affiliated, nor do I own the right to: "Louis XIII de Rémy Martin Cognac." If you can afford roughly three grand (or more depending on the age quality) by today's standards, get yourself a bottle! -wink-


	27. Chapter 27

**CHAPTER 27**

Erik attempted to keep Faraj and Alhena in sight, but necessity frequently caused him to slow his pace or hide completely. Though most of the staff and patrons of the bath house were elsewhere, there were still enough people around attending to other duties. _"I cannot simply rush brazenly down these halls," _he rationalized. While he no longer had them in sight, he could hear Faraj's cruel voice echoing down the halls in the distance.

The guards at the front entrance were chatting with the ones posted outside, through the open door. They were discussing the evening's events and apparently the end of their master's favorite plaything. Their raucous laughter angered Erik to no end. _"Not if I can help it,"_ he vowed to himself.

Slipping past the occupied guards and silently making his way to the right, he moved ahead swiftly and down another long hallway. In the distance he spotted a heavy iron door, intricately designed in gold. His mind began to replay Alhena's description of the bath house. _"If memory serves, this is Faraj's study."_ He positioned himself behind one of the two large potted plants that adorned the sides of the broken arch doors, hoping the palm fronds would hide him if the guards at the front returned to their posts.

Preparing to make his entrance, he placed his hand upon the brass handle of the door. Cracking it open, he paused to listen in on the raised voices coming from beyond.

* * *

Guifford and the girls went over their plans as they traveled toward Kukawa. Having learned that Christine was the pregnant friend Meg spoke of, Guifford suggested alternative plans to insure her safety. She would be brought to the secret passage along the dry riverbed where she could seek out her husband, while Guifford and Meg entered The Jeweled Moon from the main entrance. They would meet up with Raoul and buy Erik and Christine enough time below to remove the Persian from his cell. Guifford knew that Faraj would want to speak with him in private upon his arrival, thus giving Meg time alone with her husband to tell him of their contingency plans. 

Roughly twenty minutes away from their destination, Christine decided to pass the time by delving further into Guifford's background. Though he seemed willing to help, she was still uncertain of the sincerity of his motives.

"Monsieur Marceau, do you have any children back in Compiègne?" She asked tentatively, hoping to break the ice between them.

His eyes went distant as he smiled. "Yes, I have a son and daughter. Julien is eight and Margeaux is five."

"And your wife?"

"Linette," he sighed longingly, looking to the night sky above. "She was taken by the consumption three years after Margeaux was born, Madame."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Christine apologized, her features showing that she offered her condolences.

"I'm sorry too," Meg said sympathetically. "You did not tell me you were windowed."

"It's not something I bring up normally," Guifford shrugged. "I care to only think of better times."

"So who is caring for your children while you are away?" Christine wondered aloud.

"My sister, Ettie, takes care of them when I am not able to be home due to my job." Guifford removed his hat and scratched an itch. "Well, my previous employment, that is," he corrected himself. "I will be able to return home now that I am in le Comtesse's service," he smiled.

"_He seems to be sincere,"_ Christine thought, though she would be more certain after tonight.

Meg pointed out across the darkness and toward the faint light at the top of the hill. "The bath house is up ahead."

"Then we should turn here to reach the riverbed," Christine instructed, veering her mount to the left.

Guifford nodded, allowing Christine to take the lead. He followed close behind, wrapping his arm around Meg's waist, as they rode in haste toward the North.

It wasn't long until they came across Erik's Arabian and the thicket which hid the secret entrance Alhena spoke of.

Christine dismounted and began to tie her horse beside Atreus. "I'll be fine. You two go on ahead," she suggested, moving to reach Atreus and Erik's saddlebag.

"Are you sure you'll be alright?" Meg asked her.

"I will be, once I find him," Christine assured her, lighting the small candle she pulled free.

"Remember, if you encounter any trouble, do not think twice about fleeing this place," Guifford reminded her. "Le Comtesse and I will not leave here without your husband and the others." His words were so convincing that even he began to believe it himself.

Christine took a moment to look upon her companions, praying for their safety as well as her own. "I won't forget."

"Good luck, mon ami," Meg called out as Christine stepped into the thicket.

"Are you ready, Comtesse?" Guifford asked.

Trying her best to suppress her nerves, she replied confidently. "Yes. Let's get this over with."

Guifford maneuvered his horse in the opposite direction and raced off toward the front of the bath house.

**-XXX-**

Christine followed the path that was conveniently cleared by Erik. Had she needed to clear the way herself, it would have taken her hours with the blade she carried on her. Bringing the candle in front of her, she spotted the dark tunnel within the face of the rock. _"This is it."_ She stepped inside, eager to be reunited with her husband. The corridor seemed endless as she cautiously moved forward, the light barely providing any illumination.

After several long yards, she hoped she was close. She had only brought the one candle with her and she dreaded losing the light and having to travel onward through darkness. It seemed like only yesterday when she had ventured through a passage much like this, to find her Angel of Music. _"I'm on my way to you, mon amour..."_

Lost in her thoughts, she suddenly tripped, almost falling forward had she not caught her balance. She turned around and lowered the candle to the ground to see what she had tripped over. A pair of dark brown boots lay before her. She moved the light upward, quickly covering her mouth with her free hand to stifle a scream as the light cast across a blood soaked shirt. Regardless of the morbidity of the scene, she knew this meant Erik was still alive at least. That was all that mattered to her. She stood from her crouched position and brought the light ahead of her, moving down the passageway once more.

A mere ten feet away, she came to the end, knowing that it would lead to the inside of the bath house. All that was left was to find the latch that would open it. She ran her left hand along the uneven surface, digging her delicate fingers within the cracks of the cool stone wall. Reaching as high as she could, she slid her fingers across the ridge of another rock, finally coming upon the catch. She pressed down and the wall began to shift to the right.

Quickly blowing out the candle, she peered into the hall. She began to recall what Erik and Raoul had discussed back at The Crystal Orchid. _"From here, Erik said he would move to the dungeon…"_ she looked left and right, and then straight ahead again, _"…which should be down this hall and to the left."_

Pulling her dagger free, she stepped into the corridor, remembering the sconce on her left would close the false wall behind her. She watched the door slide into place securely before proceeding down the hall.

As she neared the end of the corridor, she heard several footsteps approaching from the right. Thinking fast, she ducked into a side room, closing the door as quietly as possible. Leaning against the door, she breathed a sigh of relief. "That was too close, Christine," she told herself.

After a few moments, she cracked the door open, seeing a pair of servants pass with trays of food from the kitchen. Instantly an idea formed in her head. She closed the door once more and took a moment to familiarize herself with the dimly lit room she was in. She walked over to the door on her right and opened it. "Perfect," she smiled, viewing the assortment of colorful outfits before her.

**-XXX-**

Guifford slowed his horse and came to a stop before the front entrance of the bath house. Dismounting, he assisted Meg down from their mount.

"Your arrival has been greatly anticipated by the master," the first guard announced as he took hold of the reigns and began to walk off to the side of the house.

Guifford offered his arm to Meg and together they approached the door guard. "I'd like to see le Comtesse in to her husband before sitting in with Monsieur Ajani," he informed the second guard.

"We had expected you, but the Comtesse is a surprise," the guard raised his eyebrow curiously.

"She flagged me down from her carriage as I passed on horseback at the base of the hill. Naturally, I offered to escort her the rest of the way."

Meg squeezed Guifford's arm nervously as the guard looked them both over a moment before finally allowing them access within.

They found the main entrance to be virtually empty as they entered, save for a few servants passing with trays of food and drink.

"Where is everyone?" Guifford turned to address the second set of guards by the door.

"They've moved to the viewing room," he informed the pair.

"Viewing room?" Guifford and Meg said simultaneously.

"The entrance is in the entertaining hall. You won't miss it," the guard assured him knowingly.

"Thank you," Guifford bowed to the guard and then turned to Meg. "Shall we?" He offered his arm to her once more and they both retreated down the left hall.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Meg asked Guifford if he knew about the viewing room. He was just as baffled by it's existence and told her this was something he had not anticipated. He hoped that it would not have any impact on their plans, or those of Christine's husband.

Passing the stairs to Alhena's quarters, Meg stopped and suggested they see if she was in her room.

"She needs to know about our plans too," Meg advised him.

"We need to be quick then. If anyone spots the two of us upstairs, we won't be able to explain what we're doing up there," Guifford said in a hushed whisper.

Meg nodded and pulled Guifford up the staircase by the hand.

* * *

As Raoul walked into the hall, he found Ranier smugly leaning against the wall with his right foot propped up behind him. 

"Not enough time to straighten up?" Ranier smirked.

Raoul ignored the man, tucking his shirt in place and running his fingers through his hair.

"So, how was she?" Ranier asked, as he moved away from the wall. "Your brother used to go on and on about how_ spirited_ she was in the sack," he continued, as Raoul smoothed his hair out between his hands. "From the look of things, it appears he was right."

"I'm not interested in whatever lecherous details my brother had to share with you," Raoul straightened out his jacket. "_My_ affairs are none of your business."

"What's the matter?" Ranier stepped forward to confront Raoul. "Couldn't get it up?"

"Now see here," Raoul looked the man directly in the eyes. "Just because we have to work together doesn't mean I have to like you, nor does it mean I have to socialize with you beyond a business aspect. So kindly shut the _hell_ up and leave me be," he warned, before stepping past him and walking off.

"Whatever you say, _Comte_," he pronounced the title like a curse. Already far ahead of him, Ranier called out after Raoul. "As a matter of fact, show _yourself_ to the viewing room. I don't need this!"

Raoul raised his hand in the air in a mock farewell as he turned the corner.

Ranier fumed at the obvious dismissal. "Best me, will you?" He mumbled under his breath, pulling his dagger free from his belt. "We'll just see who has the last laugh!" He flung his dagger forward, striking the trunk of a potted African palm at the far end of the corridor. He smiled, imagining the plant was Raoul's heart.

* * *

Sitting behind his desk, Faraj scolded Alhena as one would a child. "My poor little kitten, what am I to do with you?" He fingered the heavy blade of his scimitar while she stood defiantly in the middle of the room. Two guards stood silently nearby, ensuring there would be no escape attempts from her. 

"Let me go, Faraj. I've served you well and never asked for anything for myself."

The big man leaned his head back in rich laughter. "You've served me well, true. Because you had no damn choice! At any time I could have had you replaced like this!" He snapped his fingers, the truth of his words causing Alhena to wince sharply.

"Kill me then! I'm _tired_ of being your amusement. The years you've taken from me will never be repaired even if you _did_ let me go."

"Tsk…tsk, my dear," Faraj frowned at her, jutting out his lower lip comically. "I had no idea I was so hard on you. Is that why you've begun to dally with our friend in the dungeon?"

"Go to hell!" Alhena spat at him.

Hostility crept into his voice as he replied. "Listen well, my dear. The next time you speak in such a tone, the last sound you hear will be the whistle of my sword as it cuts through the air, separating your pretty head from your neck."

Alhena was silent as they locked eyes. She was forced to look away moments later, as the intensity of his anger overwhelmed her. Ashamed and afraid, she began to sob.

"Now tell me, what was your plan to rescue the prisoner? Oh, and tell me about _your brother._ How does he fit into all of this?"

Surprised played on her face a fraction of a moment, before she managed regained her composure. "I have no brother. You know that."

"Now is not the time for lies, Alhena. Your life or death depends on your next few answers," he snarled, standing up and staring at her balefully. He walked over to her and raised his scimitar as if to strike. "Answer me!" He roared into her terrified face.

"Allow me to answer for her, _Monsieur…_"

Faraj turned his head at the unknown voice and stared in amazement as a lone figure stood in the doorway, covered head to toe in black, except for an alabaster mask covering the right side of his face.

The two guards instantly drew their weapons and leveled them at the stranger.

"No!" Faraj called out. "Let him come." Cocking his head in wonder at the masked man, he put a finger to his lips in mock contemplation. "Just what are you supposed to be?" Faraj chuckled as he stepped back, never taking his eyes off his new potential threat.

Erik moved between the two, pushing a stunned Alhena behind him as he walked to the center of the room. The two men sized each other up, the tension within the room suffocating.

Finding himself behind his desk, Faraj broke the silence. "Let me guess, you're the mysterious brother I've been hearing about?"

"I am," Erik gave a half bow, "and so _much_ more," he finished, grinning menacingly.

Faraj smiled broadly, choosing to ignore Erik's latter statement. He assumed it was an attempt to intimidate him. "To what do I owe the honor of your presence here tonight then?"

"You have something I want." He slid his sword out of it's scabbard, pointing it at the master of the house.

**-XXX-**

Nadir was shoved forcefully through the doorway at the far end of the dungeon, the door slamming shut behind him instantly. He was now alone. One high torch provided enough illumination to see the passageway curved slightly before ending several meters away in another heavy door. A low murmur came from behind it, but he couldn't identify what the noise could be. He wondered if this was the trap itself. Not wanting to approach blindly, he ran his fingers over the frame, looking for any hidden wires or catches. Likewise, he felt at the walls and floor near his feet for anything that would be out of place. Feeling nothing, he took a deep breath and flung the door open, trying to prepare himself for what lay beyond.

"Merciful Allah…" he gasped in wonder as the door opened up into a huge arena. A sandy floor stretched out in the distance as he looked around in amazement. High walls surrounded the massive room. The low rumbling of voices exploded into full throated cheers as the spectators noticed his arrival. At regular intervals, there were other heavy doors spaced along the walls, making him ponder what surprises lay behind them.

Reaching the center of the arena, he noticed a raised pedestal with several odd looking characters carved into it. On instinct, he looked up and saw a series of metal bars crisscrossing the ceiling. Again, their purpose was unknown.

Nadir sighed heavily, stripping off his torn shirt. He straightened it upon the ground as best he could to resemble a prayer mat. Though his surroundings did not offer him the proper atmosphere for prayer, he did what he could to honor his God in what he believed was his final hour. Kneeling, he faced east, knowing in his soul that it was the right direction, and began the Isha prayer.

**-XXX-**

Faraj brought his hands together upon his desk, interlacing his meaty fingers and contemplating Erik's words. "Is that so, my masked friend?" He smirked. "Please, go on and tell me your demands since you have me so clearly outnumbered."

"You will release my sister, and the man you hold prisoner in the basement," Erik stated coldly.

"Is that all?" Faraj glanced incredulously at his guards, noting their appalled looks at what was occurring. Finally he replied. "What's in it for me?"

"We leave, and you live. It's that simple."

Laughing grandly, Faraj shook his head in disbelief of this stranger's audacity. "You've got style my friend, but not brains. I could have this room flooded with guards in a heartbeat."

"And that _heartbeat_ would be your last," Erik threatened, glowering down at the man before him.

The eyes behind the mask made Faraj pause a moment. He had never been on the receiving end of such seething animosity. He was the master and yet this man spoke to him without the fear he was accustomed to with those that worked for him.

"In that case, I have no choice but to grant your wishes. You may all depart in safety." Faraj placed his scimitar onto the table. "Take my sword as proof of my good word and I will show you to your friend in the dungeon."

"Master?" The guards both spoke up and looked at him in confusion.

"I am defeated," he said to them simply and slumped his shoulders. He now awaited Erik's move.

Erik looked behind him, noting Alhena's confused look. He didn't actually think it would be this easy, and given her expression, neither did she. _"I can take him out easily with his own blade and toss my sword to Alhena to dispose of the other two."_

Confident he had the situation under control, he approached the desk slowly, until he stood close enough to acquire the massive blade. Before reaching out for it, he took a final glance behind him to assure his sister everything would be alright.

"Erik, no!" Alhena's voice screamed out as she looked beyond him.

Quickly turning his attention forward, Erik saw Faraj with one hand on the wall behind him, a crooked smile plastered upon his dark face. He noted in dismay that one of the tiles immediately sank into the wall and he suddenly felt himself falling into an emptiness where there was a floor moments before. He cursed himself for his foolishness, knowing he should never have taken his eyes off of his enemy. His cape trailed behind him as he plunged down the chute, not knowing what awaited him in the darkness below.

"I did promise to show him the way to his friend, didn't I?" Faraj chuckled evilly as Alhena flung herself at the swiftly retreating trapdoor. Gesturing at her prone form he motioned for his guards to come. "Take her to my quarters and tell Sebastien he is to watch over her until I return."

**-XXX-**

After completing his formal prayers, Nadir said a few words of his own. "Allah, I thank you for your wisdom and guidance, your mercy and your strength. I pray you grant me a portion of your strength in the trial to come. If I cannot be free, at least let me brave. Deliver me…"

A sharp cry and a thump interrupted his prayer, causing him to glance a few feet over at a crumpled form. The body rolled over with a groan and seemed to be tangled in black cloth. Finally the figure whipped the cloak from over his head, and the Persian was greeted by a familiar masked face.

Nadir raised his eyes to the ceiling. "I pray for deliverance and you send me _him_? Have I not suffered enough in your eyes?" He leaned down and extended his hand.

Erik braced his hand around Nadir's forearm. "Give me a moment to catch my breath and I can ease your suffering, if you'd like," he suggested as the Persian pulled him to his feet.

"Ah, there's the Erik I've missed. How I've survived _this_ long without your threats of violence, I'll never know."

"Good to see you too, mon ami," Erik smirked, brushing at his clothes. To his surprise, he had suffered nothing more than a few scrapes on the way down.

"No offense old boy, but you do _realize_ your rescue plan leaves a lot to be desired, right?" Nadir remarked sarcastically.

"Not now, Daroga!" Erik growled, looking around and attempting to assess their current surroundings.

* * *

**Author's Note**  
Thank you all for the lovely reviews I received on the last update. We are so close to the final showdown, so hang in there with me. The plot thickens even more! Tune in next week to find out what becomes of the Persian and his masked companion! Also, I'd like to welcome aboard my newest readers, candybaby92 and Beth (my sister of the snog!). -smiles- Enjoy the rest of the story. 


	28. Chapter 28

**CHAPTER 28**

Returning from his room at the end of the hall, Ranier spotted two familiar forms at the opposite end of the corridor. With their backs to him, he called out after them, pulling his flask free from his jacket. "Where the hell have _you_ been and what's _she_ doing here?" He unscrewed the top of his flask and took a quick swig.

Stopping mid-stride, Guifford's back stiffened at the voice he knew unfortunately too well. He turned to face the man the gritty voice belonged to. "Ranier," he managed. "We were just… Well, I was taking…" His words failed him as he tried to sort out a reasonable excuse in his mind.

With a sidelong glance, Ranier came to his own conclusions of what was taking place before him. "Oh, _I_ see what's going on here." He took another drink from his flask of whiskey and walked toward them steadily.

"You do?" Guifford asked nervously.

Securing the cap of his flask, Ranier returned it to the inside pocket of his jacket, closing the distance between him and his partner. "_You_ were going to have your way with le Comtesse without me, weren't you?" He chided the oversized man, poking a finger to his midsection.

"You're disgusting!" Meg shot out, drawing attention to herself.

Ranier turned to Meg, bearing down on her in amusement. "You have yet to see my more _admirable_ side, Comtesse." With a twisted grin, he leaned toward her. "Let's have some _fun_, shall we? After all, your husband just finished up with Faraj's raven-haired whore. You would have every right to want to get back at him," he winked.

Meg knew better than to trust anything Ranier said about Raoul. If he had been with Alhena, she was certain that it was far from being a physical visit. Uncomfortable by the way he leered at her, she took two steps back, partially hiding behind Guifford.

"_As if he will save you..."_ Ranier laughed at the display. "Take her to my room," he instructed, turning back toward his room. "No one's going to notice we're late." He walked down the hall, whistling happily. "Besides, you've seen _one_ heinous death, you've seen them all."

Guifford was now in a dilemma. There was no possible way for him to draw his revolver and get a shot off without having the guards below come rushing up the stairs to investigate.

Meg looked to Guifford anxiously, pleading with her eyes for them to flee.

Noticing that his steps were all he heard against the marbled floor, he glanced over his shoulder. Guifford and Meg stood firmly in place, right where he had left them. "Guifford? Now!" He ordered gruffly.

Having no immediate options left to him, Guifford did as he was told, hoping Meg would understand. He took her by the arm and pulled her in the direction she clearly did not want to go.

"What are you doing?" Meg tried to free herself from his grasp. "_Please_, don't do this!" She couldn't believe he would betray her so easily. She felt foolish for thinking he would be able to change his ways. _"What am I to do now?"_ She thought in horror.

* * *

Taking a final look within the long mirror, Christine tied the crimson and gold veil in place. Dressed as a common servant, she would be able to move about the bath house in freedom, making her search for Erik much easier. 

"This looks like the Hannibal slave girl outfits." She began to untangle the strands of pearlescent beads which hung from the burgundy and black bustier she wore. "Though, this is certainly much more revealing." She felt her cheeks flush behind the veil as she glanced at her reflection within the mirror. Her breasts were much fuller now, the curves of her hips more pronounced than she had remembered. _"I'm no longer that girl of yesterday,"_ she thought, trapped within the image of this new body which stared back at her. She was now every bit the woman and it showed.

Certain her disguise was complete, she went to the door and exited the room, prepared to continue down the hall as before.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" A voice from behind her called out.

Christine paused, hoping she was not the one being addressed.

"Well?" The voice continued in abrupt annoyance.

Christine turned to face an older woman at the very end of the corridor, one hand poised at her hips.

"Don't just stand there, child!" The old woman beckoned her down the hall with a crooked finger. "The master will have you whipped for neglecting your duties," she shook her head in dismay. "There are many mouths to feed and not enough hands to spare, so get yourself to the kitchen and grab a tray to take to the viewing room at once!"

Christine bowed submissively and hurried down the hall toward the kitchen. She had not expected such a delay, but she knew it would be best to play her part without drawing suspicion to herself. _"Now I just need to find out where this 'viewing room' is," _she sighed as she rounded the corner to the kitchen.

* * *

"Alhena?" Nadir asked softly as Erik brushed the last of the dirt from his black trousers. 

"With that _bastard_, Faraj." He continued to curse himself for his failure and lack of better judgment.

"Why didn't you both just listen to me?" Nadir sighed.

Erik focused on his surroundings, looking out across the crowd for anything out of place. "Since when do I listen to you, Daroga?"

"I'm being serious, Erik. You've both put yourself in danger by staying behind and trying to rescue me.

"I couldn't very well let you have _all_ the fun now, could I?" Erik quipped, loosening his sword from it's scabbard.

"Damn it, would you stop and listen to me for _one_ moment!" Nadir grabbed Erik by the arm, squeezing hard.

Shrugging the grip off, Erik snarled in frustration. "No, _you_ listen to me. This isn't over. We're getting out of here."

"Oh, _really_?" Nadir threw his hands in the air, gesturing wildly. "Are you going to cast a spell on everyone? Maybe show them a few of your parlor tricks?" He faced Erik directly, forcing him to meet his glare. "This isn't a _game_, Erik."

Walking to the middle of the arena, Erik paused to consider the raised stone structure before him. "Everything's a game, Daroga. And in every game there are winners and losers. I see this as nothing more than a chess match." He ran a hand across the symbols of the pedestal. "Faraj may appear to be the king, but lest you forget, the king may be taken out by the lowest pawn." Attempting to decipher the significance of the symbols, he continued. "Now, he may have we two knights temporarily trapped, but I'm still confident of our position upon the board." He turned away from the dais, giving his Persian brother a knowing look. "I plan on winning," he patted Nadir's shoulder and continued past him to examine one of the many doors.

"Chess doesn't usually _involve_ an excruciatingly gruesome death," Nadir chuckled, unable to remain angry. In truth, it was comforting for him to have Erik at his side once again.

Erik placed his ear against the door, unable to hear anything over the mindless jabbering of the crowd above. "Point taken, but you know I never back away from a challenge."

"And it's a _miracle_ that you've survived this long," Nadir teased, moving to join him.

"Don't start, Daroga," he motioned with his hand to be silent. "I need a moment to think and you're not helping!"

* * *

Once Faraj left Alhena in the capable hands of his guards, he made his way back to the viewing room to begin the festivities, humming in delight to himself. 

Obeying their orders, the two eunuchs moved to escort Alhena. Their firm grasp on her arms preventing her from struggling, she glowered in anger as they marched down the halls to the master's quarters. Her mind raced, thinking of any possible way she could get herself out of this situation.

As they arrived, they shoved her into the room roughly and locked her in from outside. A single guard remained as the other went in search of Sebastien.

* * *

Meg found herself in a terrible situation. She watched as Ranier stripped off his jacket and tossed it onto a chair in the far corner of the room. Guifford stood behind her, blocking the door and frowning over the severity of the moment. 

Ranier approached Meg, an insistent gleam dominant in his eyes as they roamed over her body. "Now, let's just see what you've got under this dress." He brought his hands to her plunging neckline, prepared to forcefully reveal her breasts to him.

Instantly, Meg whipped her hand across his face, raking her nails across the flesh of his cheek. "Get your hands off of me!"

"You'll pay for that!" Ranier roared, as he grabbed her wrists and flung her onto the bed.

Guifford watched, his soul tortured, as Ranier straddled Meg upon the bed, pinning her hands above her head.

"Stop!" Meg yelled as Ranier ran his tongue against her neck. "Stop it!" She screamed in complete repulsion, driving her knee into Ranier's groin. She pushed him off of her as he doubled over in pain.

"You stupid _bitch_!" Ranier groaned, watching Meg scurry from the bed and to the corner of the room. "I've had enough of this!" He attempted to get up from his curled position. "Shoot her, Guifford!" He ordered his hefty companion.

Guifford looked to his right, at a cowering Meg panicked in the corner, and then to his longtime partner.

"I said _shoot_ her!" Ranier demanded, still clutching himself in agony.

Pulling his pepper-box revolver from his side, Guifford leveled it toward Meg, his partner's rantings instinctively causing him to do as he was told.

Meg held out her hands as if to block the inevitable bullet to come, her tears streaming down her face uncontrollably.

Ranier's anger escalated to a blinding fury, seeing his large counterpart in a hesitant standstill to shoot. "I know you hear me, you giant lummox! What in the _hell_ are you waiting for? Now's not the time to grow a conscience, you big fat…"

Guifford winced at the words, swiveling his revolver in an instant. The barrel was now pointed at Ranier's slim form. He had snapped, having had enough of the name calling and the constant abuse. Without warning, he pulled the trigger, one barrel of his weapon discharging, sending a bullet into his former companion. "My conscience is clear. Yours? Not so much, _mon ami_," he spoke, resigned in his course of action.

Meg got up and ran to Guifford's side. "Monsieur Marceau!" She wrapped her arms around him, thankful he had come through for her after all.

Placing his left hand firmly against the gunshot wound at his side, Ranier drew the long dagger from his belt with his right hand. "I'll see you both in hell!" He screamed, approaching them both wildly.

"You'll be as pitiful and alone there, as you were in life." Guifford stared the madman in the eyes defiantly, holding Meg closely as he sent another bullet flying toward his ex-partner. "Here I begin my redemption." He bowed his head, thinking of the many things he'd have to atone for in the future.

Ranier fell to the floor, the bullet striking him dead center of his chest. The blood quickly began to pool beneath him from both entry wounds.

Feeling Meg trembling against him, Guifford spoke to her in a soothing tone. "Everything is alright now, Comtesse," he cooed. "Why don't you clean yourself up while I take care of this mess, okay?" He pointed toward the small bathroom at the other end of room. "Go on," he reassured her.

Headed toward the bathroom, Meg turned to view Guifford hovering over Ranier's motionless body. "Thank you, Monsieur," she said at a loss for words, but nonetheless indebted to his gallantry.

He accepted her thanks in a curt bow and watched her disappear beyond the bathroom door. He turned his attention back on Ranier's bloody corpse, shaking his head as he dragged him by the feet. _"It's the closet for you."_

He pushed the body against the back wall and covered it with several thick towels hoping it would be enough to absorb the blood. _"Now to clean all this up,"_ he sighed, looking at the blood trail he had made as well as the puddle by the bed. He grabbed a few more towels and then shut the closet door, removing Ranier from his life once and for all. _"I will have to clean myself up after this too!" _He got on his knees and began to wipe the floor.

* * *

As Erik and Nadir examined their predicament, their quiet musings were interrupted. "You're gonna _die_ in there…both of you!" A voice, obviously slurred by drink, called down to them. "Hey, I'm _talking_ to you!" 

"I can smell your breath from here, you _vacuous_ twit," Erik muttered, not even looking at the man.

"Don't let him get to you, Erik," Nadir suggested, sensing the tension growing with his friend.

"What's the mask for? Too good to show your face to us?" The drunken man continued, his voice grating on Erik's nerves. "Are you some sort of _freak_?"

Erik raised his head slowly, glaring at the man above him. "Another word and I _will _kill you before the night is through," he growled threateningly.

"Bold words from a man in _your_ position!" Laughter made the drink in his glass slosh over the side.

Turning his back on the fool in disgust, Erik thought to himself. _"It's impossible. Could this really be…_" His mind reeled at the possibilities.

* * *

Returning to the arena, Raoul wondered what all the commotion was about. He saw several men shouting obscenities down into the pit, as he made his way toward his seat. 

"Well, you certainly look no worse for wear," Sebastien grinned, envious of the man who had just been with the object of his own fantasies since arriving in Kukawa. "It's good you've returned. I've grown weary listening to these trolls barking as they do."

"Where is everyone and what are they all screaming at?" Raoul asked as he took to his seat.

"Faraj left shortly after you and who knows where Jean and Ranier went. They're probably chasing a few servants around the bath house this very moment," Sebastien laughed. "As for this ruckus, the prisoner has made his debut, _but_ the real excitement came when some boob came plummeting down from the ceiling!" He smacked Raoul's back heartily. "We're in for a good show tonight, Comte!"

"_That boob better not be who I think it is."_ Raoul stood up, trying to get a better look. He could see nothing beyond the crowd from his vantage point.

As he was about to excuse himself from Sebastien's company, hoping to get a closer look, one of Faraj's guards approached them.

Bowing to both men, he then addressed Sebastien. "The master requests your services in his quarters."

"Right now?" Sebastien whined. "But what about the chamber? I don't want to miss out on what surely will be an interesting slaughter!" He was certain that no man would go to such lengths as Faraj did without insuring his audience a death to be remembered.

"Plans have changed and I have my orders. I am to escort you upstairs and you are to watch over the master's Tigress." The guard stood tall, waiting on Sebastien to join him.

"I'm sorry, but wasn't Alhena supposed to cater to us tonight?" Raoul furrowed his brow and did his best to sound upset. "I do not wish to be served by anyone else but her!" He demanded.

"I apologize, Comte, but it is out of my hands. The girl has betrayed my master, so do not expect her return. If you wish to discuss the matter further, then I suggest you do so with him. I am just here for him," the guard pointed at Sebastien with his pike.

"I'm coming, sheesh!" Sebastien pushed the point of the pike away from his face in annoyance, and stood up. "Comte," he bowed. "Hopefully I shall return before the fun begins." He extended his arm to Raoul.

"Of course," Raoul replied, shaking Sebastien's hand firmly.

As he was left alone to contemplate the turn of events, Raoul took a moment to consider his options. _"If that is Erik down there, no doubt he is capable of handling himself." _He stood up, prepared to follow through on what needed to be done. _"Hopefully he can prolong their fate long enough for me to get to Alhena."_

* * *

Steadying her grip upon the silver platter of food she transported, Christine followed a pair of servants headed toward the viewing room carrying large flagons of wine. They reached what she knew was the entertaining hall, but she hadn't expected the secondary entrance within the base of the grand staircase. _"I don't remember Erik mentioning this?"_

The corridor was lined with torches. Leading to where? She did not know. It seemed as if they had walked aimlessly toward nothingness, until finally they turned a corner. In the distance there was a bright light and a low rumble of sounds which echoed off of the cavern walls. _"What is this place?"_

As they came to the opening of the viewing room, Christine stopped within the archway, completely in awe of the size of the arena before her. She would have never imagined such a place existed within the bowels of this bath house.

The servants she had followed had already made their way across the arena, attending to the rowdy patrons. Looking over to the right, she spotted a familiar face amongst the sea of strangers. _"Raoul!"_ She smiled beneath her veil. _"Now to get passed these barbaric men."_ She calculated the best path in which she could reach Raoul and began her trek toward him.

* * *

Alhena searched Faraj's room in hopes to find anything of use to aid in her escape. _"He must have something in here worth while." _

Several moments of searching turned up fruitless, and as she rummaged through the closet, the lock at the door startled her from her exploration. Closing the double doors of the closet, she ran across the room and sprawled out along the carved cedar bench by the window.

Entering the room, Sebastien took a moment to look around before addressing the figure in the far left corner of his field of vision. "This room could use a bit more light," he announced, walking toward a wall lamp by the round velvet covered bed.

"Don't," she replied softly. "I like it dark."

Ignoring her request, Sebastien lit the lamp and glanced over to her. "I prefer to see what I'm dealing with," he smirked.

He hopped onto the bed and kicked his feet up, resting his hands behind his head. "And before you get any bright ideas, I assure you, two heavily armed guards are beyond that door," he pointed across the room with his left hand and patted his side with his right. "Not to mention the trusty pistol at my side," he smirked.

"You've done well in securing me as a prisoner. I wouldn't dream of trying anything against you," she feigned acceptance to her fate.

"You women are all the same," Sebastien snorted at her obvious display of defeat. "You _really_ think that a few words laced in deception would allow you to have your way?" He laughed aloud.

"_My words may not do much for this fool, but I have better ways of dealing with the likes of him."_ Alhena stood up, causing Sebastien to sit up from his reclined position on the bed.

"Where are _you_ going?" He eyed her movements cautiously, gripping the handle of his pistol at his side.

"Apparently nowhere," she answered smartly. "It's just rather warm in here." She began to strip the heavy silk coverings from her forearms. "Wouldn't you agree?"

* * *

"Hey Arab!" The bleary-eyed drunk continued. "You and that masked wonder over there are going to be the two _ugliest_ corpses in the world before dawn!" 

Others around the man laughed at his boisterous ramblings.

Nadir replied with a smile and a gesture of his arms, universally known around the world.

"Enough!" Faraj announced, straightening his sword belt as he entered the viewing area behind his guests. "Taunting them before their trial serves no purpose."

Scolded, the belligerent man sat down and faced away from his host.

Faraj noted that all in attendance were nearly breathless in anticipation, eagerly awaiting the explanation of the chamber's functions. Smiling broadly, he was now ready to begin.

**-XXX-**

It was as if Raoul was making his way toward her, as Christine inched her way through the crowd. A mere twenty feet apart, they both paused as Faraj called for the attention of all his patrons.

**-XXX-**

"I appreciate you all coming, my dear friends." Faraj proclaimed to the crowd. "I have a special treat for everyone tonight." Gesturing down into the arena, he continued, "Not one, but _two_ entertainers for your amusement!" He paused to enjoy their clapping and morbid laughter.

**-XXX-**

"_Two?"_ Christine wondered who else could be facing this trial. _"It could be anyone,"_ she thought, never expecting to see what she did. _"Oh God,"_ she gasped as she looked down into the pit. It took everything in her not to drop the tray she carried and faint right where she stood.

In utter disbelief, she blinked twice to be certain, but there was no mistaking the man who stood beside Nadir. _"Erik!"_

**-XXX-**

Walking down the steps, passing the benches where the other patrons sat, Faraj leaned over the railing, calling down to the two in the pit. "I'm so glad you could both clear your busy schedules long enough to help me test my masterpiece."

"I could think of nothing better to do but serve as a rat in your cage, _O' Powerful One_," Nadir bowed stiffly towards the big man, who laughed in response.

Erik scowled at him. "Why play to his whims, Daroga?" He hissed under his breath.

Nadir shrugged. "It is my way of being defiant, old boy. I've been refusing to let my worry show for so long, it's a habit at this point."

**-XXX-**

"_Son of a bitch! It is Erik!"_ Raoul shook his head as he finally caught a better view of the pit below._ "I hope you've got something planned, Erik. Otherwise, things are about to get nasty around here, and fast."_

He continued to move toward the corridor entrance, while everyone focused their attention on Faraj.

**-XXX-**

Faraj had turned his back and continued talking during their quiet exchange. They caught up with his words. "...several riddles that will have to be guessed correctly. The answers are all on the pedestal before them. Should they be successful, a gong will announce their triumph. _But_," he grinned evilly and turned back to face them, "if they guess _incorrectly_ however, the door will open and they will face the _surprises_ behind it."

"This sounds entirely _too_ familiar," Erik considered thoughtfully, his hand on his chin.

Nadir gave him a puzzled look. "How so?"

"Hush, Daroga. Let me listen," he replied, glaring up intently at Faraj's bulk, framed against the lamplight behind him.

"What happens if they guess them all correctly?" One of the patrons asked tentatively.

Faraj's grin never faltered. "In that unlikely event, I'll grant them both freedom. I am after all, an honorable man. My word is my bond."

Erik knew Faraj's words were hollow. _"That charlatan doesn't know the first thing about being honorable, nor does his word guarantee our release."_

Having been offered a similar bargain, just moments ago, Erik was not about to let himself be duped for a second time. _"The only way we're getting out of here is by killing that man," _he eyed Faraj coolly, pointed his skull sword directly at him. "I shall enjoy slitting your throat!" He called out to Faraj from where he stood.

The crowd began to boo at Erik's threat against the master of the house.

"Silence!" Faraj motioned with his hands for everyone to settle down.

As soon as the floor was his, Faraj laughed eerily, matching Erik's deathly gaze. "We'll just see whose blood is spilled this night!" He folded his massive arms over his chest, positive it would not be his.

"Should you have disarmed them beforehand perhaps?" Another man asked, noting the professional way Erik carried his blade. Nadir was now grasping a dagger that Erik had handed him also.

Faraj chuckled. "It won't matter. The riddles are more for the mind, than the sword arm. If they fail, blades won't be of much help to either of them. Trust me."

**-XXX-**

A surge of overwhelming panic gripped the very core of Christine's soul. _"This can't be happening!" _Her mind screamed. _"How did you allow yourself to become a victim for Faraj's savage entertainment?"_ Undoubtedly, this was not part of Erik's plan. Of that she was certain.

**-XXX-**

The men around Faraj joined him in his sinister laughter, before he addressed the two men below. "Your first riddle begins with that door there," he pointed at the door to the immediate left of the one Nadir had been thrown into earlier. "Now," he clapped twice, commencing the start of events, "Choose wisely or die painfully," he smirked. _"It matters not, for both of you will die before sunrise!" _He vowed silently.

**-XXX-**

Christine took notice of the various doors which aligned the arena. _"There must be a way to free them," _she thought, considering one of them must lead to somewhere within the house. _"The dungeon,"_ she thought, almost certain of it.

Taking a final look at her husband, she turned back toward the corridor. _"Hang on, Erik. I'm coming for you and Nadir!" _

**-XXX-**

The crowd continued their riotous cheers as Faraj motioned for the trial to begin. Fear of the unknown was Nadir's worst enemy. Not being able to assess the threats they would face had him praying once more to Allah for a swift death.

"There's no way in hell we're going to survive this," Nadir spoke in a defeated tone.

"Don't be so certain," Erik said, considering the platform before him and the odd symbols upon it yet again.

"Well, having been beaten, tortured, and drugged in recent days, you'll forgive me for having serious questions about my _riddle-solving_ ability," Nadir replied sarcastically.

Taking one more look around him, and glancing up at the metal bars high above, Erik whispered under his breath. "I can get us out of here, Daroga," he stated confidently.

"Dare I ask how you could _possibly_ know how to free us from this chamber?" Nadir scoffed.

Turning to face his long time friend, Erik answered simply. "I know because it's mine. I designed it."

* * *

**Author's Note**  
Okay, so who hates me for all these update cliffhangers? -grins- At least The Master's Conundrum is not much of a mystery anymore (though some of you may have already expected it would be Erik's creation) and we got to say goodbye to Ranier the Weasel! Everyone is all over the place like a messed up buffet! LOL There is so much more to come and I promise to make it as exciting as possible. I must say, my reader base is amazing! You all are just so in-tune with this story, I just hope I've still got some surprises left in me to keep everyone entertained. See you all next week! -swishy cape hugs- Oh, and Welcome to the Phantom Madness, Suzy (another Sister of the Snog!) and catofthemask! -smiles- 


	29. Chapter 29

**Author's Note**  
After such a long hiatus, I hope I still have some readers left. I apologize profusely for leaving everyone hanging in a cliffhanger. Anyway, without further adieu (and long explanations of why I was MIA for the past several weeks), I present to all of you…Chapter 29 of Truth Be Told!

**CHAPTER 29**

Nadir groaned at the improbability of it all, shaking his fists and looking to the heavens as if addressing Allah himself. "What fate is this, to allow me to die in a chamber designed by the hands of my own brother?"

"It's indeed mine, but I had no hand in it's construction," Erik explained, still musing over the odds of being caught within a chamber of his own creation

Nadir shot him an irritated look. "Oh… that makes me feel _so_ much better. Care to tell me what the hell the difference is?"

"The _difference_ is that I know it's weakness," Erik retorted hotly. "When I designed it, I never put it to use because I knew it was imperfect." He paused but a moment, reflecting on his times in Persia, before announcing a name he knew Nadir would recognize. "But _Basirat_ did not."

Erik had worked many long hours on all his creations for the shah's mother. He had logged and sketched all his ideas in meticulous detail and during this time Basirat, one of the khanum's closest escorts, was sent to keep an eye on him.

"Basirat?" Nadir's eyes lit up with puzzled recognition. "The man assigned to oversee your projects for the khanum?"

Erik nodded. "I should have _known_ he'd be the one to take possession of the manuals I had left behind in Ashraf."

"Why would you leave detailed documents like that behind?" Nadir demanded.

With an unamused look, Erik answered, "You didn't exactly give me much time to pack, Daroga."

Nadir's face was stern and he spoke as if scolding a child. "I _told _you to grab things of _importance_ that night I came to supposedly arrest you!"

"And I did," Erik answered simply.

"Jewels you _pilfered_ from the shah and countless others?"

"That held importance to me _living_. Besides, you didn't exactly put up much of a fight when I _gave_ you some of those jewels just before we parted ways," Erik smirked.

"I should have turned you in when I had the chance," Nadir mumbled under his breath.

The mock sentiment was not lost on Erik. He heard every word as clearly as if the crowd were nonexistent. "You and I both know you couldn't have had that on your precious _conscience_, now could you?" He winked.

Erik could practically see Nadir fuming in righteous indignation. He was actually pleased to have the Persian upset with him instead of focusing on their impending doom to no end.

Nadir's fists clenched firmly at his side. "I'm beginning to rethink what I told you about the differences of killing for perverted pleasure versus that of self-defense. I should like to strangle you myself right now for my own satisfaction!"

With a wry smile, Erik gripped Nadir's shoulders. "Look, why don't we discuss this _after_ I get us out of here? Then you can continue this absurd desire of appointing yourself as my keeper."

"By all means, old boy," Nadir replied sarcastically, waving his masked companion toward the first door. "Don't let _me_ interrupt you."

Erik walked cautiously toward the iron door and stopped in front of it. As expected, there was a sharp click as the middle panel recessed into the door and within seconds it was replaced by an etched message upon marbled stone. With his arms folded over his chest, he stood tall and read the inscription closely.

_**I come once in a minute, twice in a moment, and never in a thousand years.**_

Chuckling to himself, Erik called out to the Persian. "Is there anything on the dais that looks like the letter **M**?"

"Yes, why do you ask?" Nadir replied.

"Press it," Erik urged.

"Allah, preserve us," Nadir muttered to himself, extending his hand and pressing a stylized character on the pedestal before him.

The loud clamor of a gong being struck reverberated beyond the door. A few muttered their approval, whilst the others shouted their disappointment of the first riddle being solved.

Nadir breathed a sigh of relief, but he knew their trial was far from being over. _"At least we've gotten through this first door in one piece." _He wiped his brow with the back of his left hand and prepared himself for the next riddle.

Erik turned to Nadir with a smug grin upon his face. "Were you worried, Daroga?" He laughed.

"Let me remind you, there are quite a few doors left," Nadir reminded him.

Nodding, Erik moved off to the second door. He stood before it a moment, puzzled at the simplicity of this newest riddle.

_**My top and bottom are twins of a kind.**_

_**The middle of me makes one body combined.**_

_**I'm used to pass time and provide quite a thrill.**_

_**If I stand tall and still, run faster I will. **_

Erik rolled his eyes, feeling his intelligence being insulted. _"Basirat chose these riddles for this chamber?"_ He sighed, just before calling out to Nadir. "If there's anything resembling an **hourglass**, press it."

Another gong rang out as the Persian pressed the symbol upon the pedestal and he dared to hope they may find a way out of this after all.

* * *

Sebastien eyed Alhena steadily, watching her toss the silk coverings that once adorned her forearms onto the long cedar bench behind her. Sighing blissfully, she rubbed at her exposed skin as she walked over to the enclosed window closest to her. He tried to appear uninterested as he glanced out of the corner of his eyes. She ran her hands along her bare smooth skin, her delicate fingers brushing ever so gently against her sun-kissed body. 

Beads of sweat began to form against his forehead, and suddenly he was feeling 'a bit warm' as she had stated earlier. He didn't dare to admit or acknowledge why, however.

"Could you open the window there?" She pointed across the other end of the room.

"You're already up. Do it yourself," he suggested gruffly, uninterested in doing the menial task she requested of him.

Without a word, she moved across the foot of the bed and past him.

He watched her curvaceous form hungrily as she reached up to undo the gold latch which kept the shutters firmly in place. The steady heaving of her bosom beckoned him fiercely, and as she pulled the window open, the air blew through her long sweeping tresses completing the image of ultimate seduction. The soft light of the moon captured parts of her glistening body in an almost ethereal glow. There she stood for a moment, taking in the cool night breeze and brushing her raven-black hair to the side with her fingers.

Sebastien crossed his legs, fighting back the ache which was ever present before him.

Her own eyes had been carefully on him as well, but for completely different reasons altogether. She could sense his eyes coveting her flesh intently and that last single action of his spoke volumes to her. He was playing right into her hands and she grinned inwardly at how simple it was to bend the male libido to her will.

Doing her best to fumble her fingers across her back, Alhena sighed helplessly. "How about you help me with this?" She asked softly, pulling at the satin ties at her back. "I'd like to take a bath, if that's alright?"

Sebastien raised his eyebrow suspiciously. "Don't you dress _and_ undress yourself on a daily basis?"

"It depends on what I'm wearing, but anything with ties at the back is usually done for me by one of the other girls of the house."

Sebastien made no move to help her, opting to eye her a few moments in silence, instead. No matter how simple the request was, he knew he had to be careful where she was concerned. He couldn't put anything past her, though he was certain he could handle any situation should she cause some type of mischief.

Alhena grew impatient as she awaited his response. "If you're intimidated by a few pieces of string, why don't you _fetch_ one of the servants of the house?"

Her insinuations of turning him into her house boy was intolerable; certainly not a role he cared to partake in. "Let me make things perfectly clear, for it appears you have no concept of exactly why I am here. I'm not about to start catering to your every whim and that includes running about the halls while you devise a means of escape." Moving off of the bed and approaching her slowly, he continued. "I hate to disappoint you, but that's not going to happen." He stood before her, eyeing her coldly. "Now, turn around."

His response was exactly what she had anticipated. Though she had doubted him for a split second before he had called her bluff, he ultimately followed through on what she knew he could not possibly pass up; a more revealing glimpse of a body he had been actively stalking with his eyes since his very first day within the house.

She held her long hair off to the side as he stood behind her, threading his fingers within the laces. With each loop he pulled free, his movements slowed at an unhurried pace as he took in the sight of each inch of slowly exposed skin. The long scars at her back did not hinder his eagerness for more. His desire to have her for his own overpowered all else. He had been with many women who paled in comparison with their unmarked beauty. Alhena possessed an air about her that no woman could match and no man could resist. It was that bewitching spell that made his breath catch in his throat.

"Done," he said abruptly, shaking his thoughts free.

She turned slowly, one arm across her front to hold her top in place and the other letting her hair cascade to her back once more. She thanked him in a slight, yet sultry tone and then turned away from him toward the bathroom.

He watched her disappear beyond the bathroom, entranced in the very spot she stood just moments before. It was not until the muted sounds of running water brought him back to his senses, allowing him to return to his lounged position upon the bed.

It was the thoughts of her naked beyond him, a mere single wall separating them both, which kept Sebastien from falling asleep upon the flamboyant comforts of Faraj's bed. He had thought about joining her several times, though each thought would abruptly end with images of Faraj's scimitar cutting clear through his neck for consorting with his Tigress.

It was not long before he decided there was no harm in simply checking in on her. As he was about to swing his legs off to the side of the bed, Alhena emerged from beyond the bathroom doors, draped in nothing more than a long towel.

Walking over to the dresser across from Sebastien, she retrieved an ornate hairbrush from the top drawer before moving to the foot of the bed and taking a seat. Unraveling the neatly tied bundle of hair atop her head, she then began to brush through her semi-damp hair.

With each calculated pass of her hand, he watched her steadily. Droplets of bath water covered the visible parts of her skin in an entrancing shimmer. "Get dressed!" He ordered her in frustration, uncertain of how much more he could take of her seemingly innocent yet blatantly arousing display before him.

Ignoring his demand, she glanced over her left shoulder. Her eyes met his with an intensity of seriousness and fear of what she knew would come to pass. "He's killing me tonight, you know?"

Sebastien was not altogether surprised. "I'm sure that anything less would be unbefitting of the crimes against your master."

"I didn't ask you to comment on a fate that I am very aware of," she replied stiffly.

"Then what are you asking me?"

Alhena stood up and rounded the foot of the bed, closing the distance between her and Sebastien. "If I am to die this night, I wish not to leave this plane of existence feeling…" Adding a slight dramatic pause, she turned her head, looking away from him briefly. She acted upon a feigned fear to bear her deepest most secrets to him.

Partly curious, but more so on guard, Sebastien got up, and stood before her. His very presence loomed over her, demanding attention. "If this is some sort of _trick_…"

Turning to meet his eyes with equal intensity, she continued. "As you well know, I am a woman accustomed to a particular way of life and thus so I require an inordinate amount of companionship, to put it _lightly_."

Sebastien knew very well of what she spoke of. Under different circumstances, he would not think twice of taking advantage of the situation right there where he stood. Though, these were not normal circumstances and she was definitely not one to be handled lightly, _"In a manner of speaking…"_ Gripping his chin with his right hand, he took a moment to consider his options. "I understand the _subtleness_ of your plea, but what you request of me…"

"As I've said before," Alhena interrupted him, "I am feeling… _unsatisfied_. I wish only to fulfill my womanly wants before this night is through."

"_I'm more than capable of giving her what she craves." _The hunger within him begged to be sated. _"But is this all what it appears to be?" _His more rational side argued, insisting not to be ignored so easily. It was his fear of being caught, not only by Faraj, but to be deceived by Alhena, that kept his mind conflicted. _"If I could only be certain…"_

Alhena knew that the longer Sebastien remained silent with his thoughts, mulling over the validity of her plight, the odds of him refusing her would grow. That was something she was determined to prevent. "Come now, Sebastien," she began, adding further justification to her plea. She ran a finger up his arm, appealing to him. "I've seen the way you've looked at me on countless occasions."

Her touch against his skin set off a wave of emotions he had tried so hard to keep at bay. It was not until that single touch that he realized the extent of power she held over him. This night, she would be his. And to be certain she would remain under his control, he devised a plan of his own. "After much consideration, I do believe I've come up with a reasonable solution to satisfy both of our needs," he grinned lecherously.

Running her hand up against his chest, she asked playfully, "Is that so?"

Sebastien grabbed her wrist firmly and leaned closer to her. "I think you'll enjoy what I have in mind."

It wasn't long until she found out exactly what he meant by what he had in mind.

Within an instant, he pulled the towel free from around her body and began to tear two long strips to use to restrain her. He pushed her onto the bed without regard and immediately got on top of her, bringing her hands above her head to secure them tightly. "I apologize for being so _forceful_," he announced, in a perverse manner. "But this will insure that you won't try anything. Whether your plea is genuine or not, I can't take the risk of being wrong." He nuzzled her neck wildly, practically biting the skin as if to draw blood. As Alhena cringed internally at the thought of his movements upon her, he eyed her in dominant finality. "After all, I don't trust you in either case." He growled with a passion only reserved for rabid beasts, lowering himself between her legs. "Prepare yourself for a night you will not soon forget."

"_And neither will you!"_ Alhena thought, bracing herself for what was to come next. Sebastien crushed his mouth over her warmth, and as disgusted as she was of his actions, it was exactly where she needed him to be. She raised her legs up, locking them around his neck in a vice-like grip, taking advantage of her bound hands to gain additional leverage. In a panic, he fought against her hold, attempting to pry her legs from around his neck with his hands, but from his position he found it impossible to break the hold she had on him. She steadied her grip, applying pressure like that of a snake within it's coils; squeezing the very breath from him.

After several long minutes of struggling, Sebastien's movements began to relax. With a choked gasp, he collapsed limply. Alhena held her position a few moments longer to be certain his condition was genuine and not artificial for her benefit. Finally, she released her hold, kicking him unceremoniously onto the floor.

Taking a few deep breaths, she tugged on her restraints, noting with grudging respect that even in his haste, he had done a good job. Fortunately he hadn't noticed she had had her forearms tensed as tight as she could as he bound her. Once she had relaxed them, she was left with an almost imperceptible amount of slack. It would be enough. Without a lot of room to move her hands, she worked carefully, and used her tightly bound right hand to bend her left thumb backwards. Although painful, she managed to slip it between the skin of her wrist, and the bindings. With her thumb applying outward pressure, she was able to free her hand with a few hard tugs.

Smiling grimly, she quickly freed her other hand and swiftly moved to get dressed. She noted a clock on the wall. In a few moments the guard would be changing. That would be her best time to escape.

* * *

Several more doors had been disabled, as the two men figured out the riddles that lay before them. The crowd above them had begun whispering as each gong sounded. Faraj however, looked intently at the pair; murder in his eyes. With each moment, he silently prayed they would guess an answer incorrectly, subjecting them to the various threats behind the doors. "How _do_ these fools know how to answer?" He muttered to himself, his hand caressing the hilt of his heavy scimitar. 

"Don't get hasty boys!" The drunken voice from earlier yelled out, assaulting Erik's ears once more. "I can't believe a couple of raggedy looking fools, such as yourselves, have lasted this long!"

Looking up from the latest door, Erik could see the imbecile above him, leaning over the railing. "Daroga? How far would you say the balcony is to here?"

Puzzled, Nadir replied, "About fifteen to twenty feet, give or take. Why?"

"Just checking…" Erik deftly uncoiled his Punjab lasso and fingered the noose carefully.

Once more the inebriated voice sailed down to them. "How a couple of beggars like you two got this far, I'll never know!" His swaying motions caused his cup to overflow, splashing down upon the masked man beneath him.

Erik glared up, locking his gaze upon the drunken man above him as he ran his hands through his now damp hair.

The man's puffy face was flushed with both drink and the weight of one accustomed to labor no heavier than lifting a fork to his mouth.

Erik spun and hurled his rope upwards, the circle of the noose settling instantly around the neck of the drunken man. "I did warn you, after all." Pulling hard, he smiled in grim satisfaction as the man tumbled over the edge, plunging and crashing hard onto the dirt floor of the arena.

Dazed, the man looked around. A moment later his confusion was ended. The point of Erik's sword plunged directly into his chest, immediately piercing his heart. With a stammered groan, he fell to the floor, the blood immediately pooling around him.

The crowd reacted with a hushed silence as they looked on, their whispers unintelligible to the pair below. Faraj merely sat upon his throne, stone-faced and unaffected by the display.

Erik crossed the space between him and Nadir. "Keep the faith, Daroga. The Comte is not among these spectators. I trust he is acting behind the scenes as well to get us out of here."

"Do I look worried?" Nadir asked. "Personally, I expected to be dead several days ago. This is an interesting reprieve, I must say."

"Then let us end it here." Erik pulled his sword free from the dead man's body and returned to the riddle on the door, concentration apparent on the visible side of his features.

_**Five hundred begins it, five hundred ends it,**_

_**Five in the middle is seen;**_

_**The First of all letters, and the first of all figures,**_

_**Take up their stations between.**_

_**Join all together, and then you will bring**_

_**Before you the name of an eminent king.**_

Erik frowned, unsure of what to make of this one. It wasn't one he was familiar with and certainly not one of the many verses he had written himself for this chamber. "Daroga? Come have a look at this one," he called out to his friend.

Nadir approached, keeping a wary eye on the men in the balcony above them, unable to shake the feeling that at any time a spear or arrow may be unleashed upon them if they weren't careful. Glancing at the riddle, his eyes narrowed. "Looks like gibberish to me."

"Thanks, you're a lot of help," Erik replied dryly.

A low growl could be heard from behind the heavy door, as if one or many large beasts waited just inches behind the barrier.

"I'm guessing we don't want to get this wrong though," Nadir said in a concerned tone.

Viewing their apparent confusion, Faraj smiled and stood up. Turning to look at his guests, he proclaimed with a broad grin, "Aha! We may have some entertainment after all!"

"I really dislike that man," Nadir whispered under his breath. He diverted his gaze from Faraj, once again considering the purpose of the metal bars which crisscrossed the ceiling above him. Before he could analyze it further, he heard the scuff of boots on the sandy floor beside him. "Erik?"

Erik seemed not to hear him and instead stood up straight, his eyes alight, and fled towards the raised dais in earnest.

Nadir sighed and followed, catching up as Erik was studying the dozens of letters and symbols before him.

"I've got it!" With a gloved hand, Erik reached out and pressed a symbol **D**.

Nadir winced as nothing happened. No door opened, but there was also no gong to symbolize their success either.

Erik continued to press another symbol **A**, and then two more; **V** and **I**. "King **David** of Israel would certainly qualify as eminent," he smiled, knowing Nadir would know of the man in question. His friend was well versed in both history and religious cultures.

"I don't get it," Nadir stated, clearly baffled.

"Roman numerals. Tricky, but not impossible. I'll explain later, if you'd like." He returned to the initial symbol he had started with and pressed it, completing the answer of the riddle.

"No, I mean I don't get that you knew the answer. When did _you_ read the bible?" Nadir snickered softly, ignoring the glare Erik shot him.

The sounding gong interrupted their words and brought them both a wide smile. Faraj's dark face, on the other hand, was livid with obvious fury. To make matters worse, a few of the spectators clapped in admiration at their success. That ceased immediately upon seeing Faraj's dangerous gaze glowering at them. His anger was evident and the intensity of it caused anyone meeting his stare to draw back in terror.

Standing up, he leaned over the railing, clapping dramatically. "Well done, my mysterious friends. You are nearly through this trial. Only four doors left."

A faint smile shown briefly upon Nadir's face before Faraj continued his address. "My guests are getting bored and restless, however. It's time to make things more… _interesting_." The big man moved to a side wall and pressed yet another hidden indentation. For a moment, nothing happened.

"Get down and press as close as you can to this pedestal!" Erik directed, assuming a similar position on the other side of the dais.

Confused, Nadir did as he was instructed. He glanced at Erik and followed his gaze up to the roof, where a strange metallic clanking could be heard. It was as if a giant machine were starting up...

* * *

**Author's Note x2**  
I assume most of you have read Kay's Phantom, but in case some of you haven't, I referenced it just a bit for the explanation of why Faraj had Erik's chamber plans. I did create the character of Basirat for this story though. He was not in Kay's book. Hopefully I was able to generalize the idea of what had happened. I tried not to focus too much on that part in case I was confusing anyone. As for future updates, I will be posting on my weekly schedule once again, but I'm moving the days back to Fridays. Thanks for bearing with me during my sudden absence. -hugs- 

**Disclaimer**  
The riddles found in this chapter do not belong to me. They are the property of various riddle sites that I have browsed online. I did notice, however, that many (the majority, in fact) did not state author names, so I apologize for not being able to provide actual credit where it is due.


	30. Chapter 30

**Author's Note**  
Okay, before we get started, I just want to thank everyone for all the reviews I received. I missed you all! -hugs- I'm glad everyone enjoyed the riddles. Unfortunately, there won't be anymore (though I had originally thought I would be adding a few more). As for the reasons why, it will become clearer as you all read this chapter.

Now, to set the stage for this latest installment, I'd like for everyone to keep in mind that the initial scenes for Christine/Raoul/Meg/Guifford are happening parallel to what Erik and Nadir are going through in the last update (and then we get caught up once the Erik/Nadir scenes commence in this update). I originally had these segments in the previous chapter, but I felt there was too much going on to focus on each individual character's scenes, so hence the move.

Hopefully, there is no confusion. Feel free to send me a message with your questions, if so.

**CHAPTER 30**

Within the long corridor that led to and from the hidden arena, Christine raced toward the entertainment hall hoping to make it back to the dungeon entrance. She thought about the possibilities of confronting guards posted at the doors to the chambers below. How she would get past them was something she decided to deal with once she got there. _"Whatever the cost, I will make it to that dungeon. For Erik and Nadir's sake, I must!" _She turned the blind corner, her thoughts diverting to her dearest friends. _"I_ _pray Meg and Guifford are out of harm's way. If only I had a chance to get to Raoul. I could have…"_ Suddenly, she bumped head on into someone in front of her, the now empty silver tray she carried falling to the floor in an echoing clatter. She moved instantly to retrieve it, hoping to avoid eye contact with the person she had run into.

The man, however, did not move from his spot.

"Are you alright?" The voice grew closer, as he crouched down beside her. "Allow me to help you with that."

Christine's veiled face met with the man she knew all too well, locks of blonde hair flowing past his face as he leaned forward to collect the tray.

His eyes met hers, growing wide in an undeniable recognition, as he held the tray out to her. "Christine! What are you…"

She grabbed his arm, trying to keep him steady. "Keep your voice down, Raoul," she hissed in a low whisper.

He couldn't believe she had come, knowing of the risks he and Erik had made very clear to her. _"Another wrinkle in Erik's clever plan it seems,"_ he thought ruefully.

A voice coming from the direction of the arena called out, startling them both. "You there, wench! Go about your business and do not bother the master's patron further." They were confronted by a leather clad guard not more than twenty feet away. His eyes glaring at her small form dangerously, he raised his pike threateningly.

"It's quite alright," Raoul announced, bringing Christine up with him. "I was just helping her with this." He raised the tray, showing the guard before handing it back to her.

"It is not necessary to aid the hired servants of the house, Comte," the man furrowed his brow disapprovingly. Casting his gaze at Christine, he ordered, "Return to kitchen at once before I am forced to drag you there myself!"

With a curt bow, Christine rushed off, leaving Raoul behind.

"See here," Raoul began, demanding to be heard. "I told you that…"

Before Raoul could finish, the guard interrupted him with questions of his own. "Why are you roaming about? Should you not be at the master's side?"

Angered at the guard's belligerent tone, Raoul replied, "If you_ must _know, I was on my way outside to get some air. I find the confines of that arena a bit too congested for my taste." He stood tall and met the eyes of the guard with blatant arrogance. "Now, should you feel the need to question my actions in the future, I must advise strongly against it, unless you wish to be at the end of your master's great scimitar for confronting one of his most prized financial partners in such a manner?"

The guard stood in complete silence, carefully considering the possible consequences, as Raoul awaited his response. The large man ultimately bowed his head as a sign of understanding and defeat.

Turning on his heel, Raoul left the eunuch's presence and continued down the corridor as before, hoping to catch up with Christine in the entertainment hall.

* * *

Guifford and Meg left Ranier's room, hurrying toward the viewing room. "With everyone in the arena, we should be able to slip in without anyone questioning where we've been," he assured her. "I will deliver you to le Comte and do my best to keep Faraj occupied while I'm sitting in with him. I just hope it is enough to help." 

"It will be," Meg smiled trustingly. "I have faith in you, Monsieur."

Continuing down the hall, Guifford suddenly held Meg back. "Wait." He took his pocket watch from his vest and checked the time. He noted the hour and recalled it was near time for the changing of the guards to take place within the household. "Not that way," he suggested, pulling her down another path. "This is a section less traveled, only used by the servants. If we continue down this hall, we will avoid running into the main door guards." Seeing her questioning look, he continued. "They believe us to be in the arena already."

With a quick nod, she allowed Guifford to guide her down the opposite end of the hall toward the kitchen. "Do not worry, Comtesse. There is another path we can take to reach the entertainment hall."

* * *

Raoul spotted Christine a short distance ahead of him as he exited the raised staircase. He called out to her in a hushed whisper to catch her attention. "Christine..." He motioned her to follow him down the left hall. 

"Where's the guard?" Christine asked, looking behind her.

"I left him back in the corridor to the arena, but never mind that. I can't believe you're here. What were you thinking, Christine? Why would you put yourself in such a position?" His questions came so fast, he hardly gave her a chance to answer.

"Raoul, please, calm down!" She looked over his shoulder to make sure they were still alone. "We should move out of this hallway."

Ignoring her, he continued. "For Christ's sake, do you realize the dangers in…"

"I wasn't about to stay in Bornu, locked up in my room and worrying over whether any of you would return!" She answered sharply.

"Christine, you're going to have to put your stubbornness aside sometime and trust in us," he argued, holding her by the arms. "What on earth did you plan to accomplish by being here anyway? Especially, dressed like that!"

"Please don't be upset with me… Not now…" she looked away, embarrassed at his concern.

"Lotte," he moved his hands upon her shoulders attempting to appear calm, "I'm not upset with you. I'm just concerned for your safety."

"I'm tired of everyone feeling the need to coddle me! I'm a grown woman and can take care of myself!" She explained in frustration to his concern.

"Your baby should be reason enough for you to know why we involve ourselves in your well-being," he attempted to reason with her. Suddenly he realized, "Wait a minute. If you're here, where's Meg?" He dreaded to hear the answer he was almost certain she would give him.

Christine's eyes grew soft, silently pleading with him to forgive her.

"Dear God, please tell me she's not here," his voice trembled in a deep worry.

"Raoul, listen to me. This wasn't her idea. I was the one…" She paused, noticing his attention was focused elsewhere.

Further down the hall, behind Christine, he narrowed his eyes at the pair in the distance. The sight alone of Guifford pulling his wife along at a hurried pace was enough to warrant an abrupt reaction. He had lost her once before and wasn't about to have her taken away from him again. He pushed Christine roughly aside with his left arm, reaching for his pistol with his right hand.

"Unhand my wife, you bastard!" He roared blindly, raising his pistol and lining up the sights with the portly man's chest, determined to kill him with one shot. He pulled the trigger in grim satisfaction, knowing the man would be dead in mere seconds.

"No, Raoul!" Christine shouted, reaching out and dragging his arm down, right as the weapon discharged. Despite her interference however, the man holding Meg dropped to the ground, writhing in pain.

* * *

"Merciful Allah! Now what?" Nadir exclaimed, his eyes drawn up to the clamor above them. The metal beams were shaking visibly, and the noise was enough to drive him mad. With a shrill series of whistles, the bars came whipping down. At the end of each one was a thick, shining blade, wide and long enough to completely destroy anything it came into contact with. First one, then another, until finally dozens of them swung back and forth across the arena floor in a seemingly random pattern. 

The crowd in the stands roared their approval at this newest twist of the trial. Faraj basked in their cheers, grinning broadly. He knew the game would be ending soon.

"That," Erik replied, just loud enough for Nadir to hear him, "is _exactly_ what I've been waiting for."

Eyes wild, Nadir craned his neck to look at his friend. "Are you out of your damn mind?"

"Don't move around, Daroga. There's little room for error. This is the flaw in the design. We just had to live long enough for Faraj to activate it." Erik stared intently at the pendulums sweeping back and forth across the various sections of the arena. "Oh, and draw your legs in closer."

Nadir brought both knees up to his chin, pressing backwards against the pedestal as tight as he could, wincing inwardly as a blade passed mere inches in front of his feet. "Thanks awfully, old boy," he grumbled.

"There are still four more doors to go, my friends! Only four more riddles to solve!" Faraj called out to them, his cruel laughter punctuating his words. "You may want to watch your step however." His cohorts joined him in his raucous merriment, certain the two men in the arena were surely doomed.

Raising his masked face to stare into the eyes of the man who had captured them, Erik smiled at him fearlessly. "Remember this moment, Faraj," he said coldly, pointing his skull sword at the fiend in the stands. "Know that I shall be the one to send you to the fiery depths of the netherworld!"

Snorting in derision, Faraj waved his hand dismissively. "Shall I tremble in fear now? Or may I wait until later?"

"Just remember my words." Eyes afire behind the mask, Erik boldly stood up and darted across the floor. The crowd gasped as one, and Nadir himself tore his eyes off of the swinging blades just long enough to see his friend's cape trailing behind him as he bolted across the arena.

"Erik!" Nadir cried out in alarm, watching him deftly dodge and twist around each slashing blade, mere moments before they would have cut him in half.

* * *

Meg let out a blood-curdling scream as Guifford fell to the floor, grasping at the agony that blossomed in his side. 

Visibly shaken, Raoul looked to Christine in utmost surprise. "What are you…"

"He's with us!" She revealed instantly, having failed to mention Guifford's involvement sooner. "We asked him to bring us here!"

Meg fell to her knees beside Guifford. "Monsieur Marceau! Are you alright?"

Guifford brought his hand from his side, raising it before him slowly, as if in shock at the sight of his own blood. "I…I've been shot…"

Raoul rushed down the hall, Christine following close behind him. As he reached the pair upon the floor, he fumbled and pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and crouched down beside Guifford, opposite of Meg. "Here," he moved the large hand, placing the handkerchief against the bloody wound. "You must keep pressure on it." He brought Guifford's hand back; firmly resting it against the cloth to keep it in place. He looked up at Meg disappointedly. "I would have killed this man if it were not for Christine," he frowned at her. "How could you, Meg?"

The tiny blonde girl trembled in guilt and regret. "Oh Raoul, I'm sorry! I had to come. I couldn't let Christine go off alone."

"It's my fault, Raoul. Please don't blame Meg for this," Christine spoke up.

"We'll discuss this later," he shook his head at both girls. "For now, you two take him through the secret passage and wait for me to return. Surely someone has heard the commotion, so we haven't got much time."

"But Raoul…" Meg began.

"You'll do as I say, Meg!" He snapped at her. Turning to address Guifford, his voice softened. "My apologies, Monsieur, but given the circumstances, I was not aware of your assistance until now."

Guifford merely nodded as Meg carefully brought his right arm around her shoulder, preparing to help him to his feet.

Raoul moved behind Guifford, to boost him up. "Will you be able to walk?"

"I think so," Guifford winced as he took a breath.

Christine placed her hand upon Raoul's shoulder. "Let me go with you."

"No. You're going with them. Meg can't bring this man out alone," he said hotly, still angry at the refusal of the two women to listen to their warnings earlier in the evening. "Christine, there's no time to argue about this. Erik is…"

She cut him off. "In trouble, I know! I have to get to him!" She begged him with both her voice and her eyes.

"Lotte, I'll do my best to get them all out of here. You know I will," he assured her solemnly, hoping to ease her pain and uncertainty. "Now please, go. We mustn't waste anymore time."

Raoul watched the three disappear around the corner before turning back toward his original destination. _"Hang in there, Alhena," _he prayed silently. _"Hopefully your brother and the Persian are doing the same."_

* * *

Nadir sat in disbelief as his friend made it to a far wall. Dodging left and right, Erik stared back across the length of the arena, concentrating on the timing of the blades. 

"Anything I can do to help?" Nadir called out tentatively, feeling strangely weak.

"Yes. Don't interrupt me."

In a huff, Nadir scowled at him. "Pardon me for being the voice of panic in your masterful plan, _O' Great Maestro_." Tears choked his voice suddenly.

"Get a hold of yourself, Daroga!" Erik snapped irritably.

Wiping his eyes with his arm, Nadir looked at his shaking hands in alarm. "I... I can't!" He cried. "It's all I can do not to flee in terror." He admitted shamefully.

Despite the seriousness of the situation a deep laughter erupted out of Erik, even as he continued to dodge the blade that came at him every few seconds. "What's come over you? We've been in countless situations such as this before. What makes _this_ any different?"

Thinking back, Nadir suddenly recalled the potion Alhena had given him earlier in the evening. "Damn that woman!" He yelled, tears flowing freely down his face.

"Who?" Erik asked, still struggling to contain his mirth.

"Your bloody sister! She gave me a potion to offset the foul-tasting one you gave her."

Puzzled, Erik continued. "Did she mention any side effects?"

"I don't want to talk about it." He said hesitantly. "She just said it was helpful for..." his voice trailed off into mutterings.

"I didn't hear you, Daroga," Erik pressed on. "It was helpful _for_?" Again he dodged the blade nearest him.

"For womanly problems," he mouthed silently.

"For what?" Erik repeated impatiently, straining to hear him.

"For WOMANLY PROBLEMS!" Nadir roared, immediately regretting raising his voice as the entire arena of guests burst into fresh laughter at the exclamation.

Shaking his head in amusement, Erik resigned himself to giving his Persian brother sheer hell about it later. "Get down on all fours, Daroga!" He called out.

"Not funny, Erik!" Nadir smirked at him, the tears beginning to dry up. "Just because I act like a woman right now does not mean I'll pose like one for you!"

Erik rolled his eyes. "Oh for the love of... Just do it!"

"Do I even want to know what you're planning?" Nadir called back skeptically.

Shrugging, Erik grinned impishly. "Probably not."

"I hate it when he says that," the Persian mumbled as he knelt on his hands and knees between Erik and the pedestal.

Balancing on his heels, Erik slipped to the side of the pendulum blade that swung at his location and immediately ran at full speed behind it. His timing was perfect, as one passed in front of him and another behind him as he charged. The blade he followed rapidly reached it's far apex and came slashing back at him. He angled his run slightly, and right before it would have ripped into his body, he leapt forward boldly. His left foot landing square on Nadir's back, he continued the motion, his right foot landing on the far side of the pedestal. He used his momentum to push off and he jumped up high and straight, grabbing the bar of another blade as it whipped past.

Nadir watched agape as Erik stood on the swinging pendulum. His feet were planted firmly upon the blunt upper side of the flashing blade and his gloved hands clasped securely onto the metal bar. Once again, the crowd above them gasped in astonishment at the bold move of the stranger below them, hanging on tightly as his black cape trailed behind him.

Another sight distracted Nadir however. Two buttons on the dais had been depressed when Erik had stepped on it, and no gong had sounded out.

Looking up at his friend, he smiled wanly and waved at Erik's swinging form. Beyond the pendulums he saw two of the untried doors suddenly swing open. "_Brilliant_ plan, Erik. Just leave me here while you entertain Faraj's guests with your acrobatics," he muttered under his breath through gritted teeth. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine," he groaned.

* * *

**Author's Note x2**  
Just to let everyone know, I'm officially announcing that my significant other (Jon a.k.a Thargrimm) will be co-writing with me for the duration of this story as well as any future projects I may be undertaking. Technically he's been behind the scenes all along as my editor, not to mention adding a few scenes of his own in a few of the previous chapters as well as this one (most of you already knew that though). Anyway, if anyone wants to say hello to him via the reviews or at his FanFiction pen name: Thargrimm, feel free to do so. He'd appreciate hearing from anyone that wishes to drop him a line. 


	31. Chapter 31

**CHAPTER 31**

Faraj couldn't believe his eyes. The mysterious stranger, clad in black, had not only avoided the blades, but was now riding one. His knuckles whitened as they gripped the hilt of his heavy scimitar and his cold eyes bore down in furious anger at the pair below.

As Erik held onto the metal bar, Nadir could see him subtly shifting his weight with each pass. Consequently, it was rising higher and higher at the peak of each rotation. The metal bars squealed in protest as they were extended farther than they were designed along their paths.

"What on earth are you doing?" Nadir called out, both concerned and amazed at Erik's precarious situation.

"Relax, Daroga," Erik yelled, his eyes intent on the movements of the pendulum. "Soon we shall be free," he assured him.

A loud growl reverberated through the arena, catching the attention of the two prisoners, as well as the patrons in the stands above.

Nadir stared in horror at one of the two newly opened doors. Beyond it, a white tiger slowly came into view, it's animal eyes surveying the new surroundings. Two more followed, sniffing the air cautiously as they emerged. _"In another setting, these would be remarkable animals to study,"_ he thought. _"From a safer distance, that is."_ As it was, their appearance made him groan as he looked to the heavens once more in despair. No answer from his god was forthcoming however, and to make matters worse, he thought he could see a twisting, squirming mass of movement, from beyond the second door that Erik had inadvertently opened. He cursed this turn of events in Farsi, shaking his head in disbelief.

The crowd applauded in wonder at the appearance of the white tigers. Rare animals in their own right, it was even more fascinating to see them used in such a hazardous scenario. More than one man winced inside thinking of the costs it would incur to purchase such fine creatures. That Faraj would so carelessly cast them into danger, spoke volumes about his capacity for cruelty. Meanwhile, the master of the house stood motionless at the ledge, looking out on the drama continuing to unfold below.

"Pardon, Master." One guard approached Faraj and asked tentatively. "Should we not shoot him down?" He gestured with a nod at the caped figure riding the steel pendulum beneath them.

Eyes narrowing, never leaving the arena, Faraj replied simply. "There's no need. Even at the highest point, it would be much too far to jump onto our balcony. His actions merely delay the inevitable."

"Of course, my lord." The guard bowed and retreated.

Faraj continued to stare out, a shade of doubt growing in his mind. He dared not admit that the man's earlier bravado disturbed him deeply. _"Could he in fact, have some sort of plan?" _He folded his arms across his hulking chest defiantly. "_Impossible!__ He has nowhere to go_." A faint smile played briefly across his lips.

* * *

Raoul paused at the foot of the staircase that led to Faraj's quarters, sorting out what he planned to tell the guards that stood watch outside of the master suite. _"It should be relatively easy,"_ he convinced himself as he began to climb the steps two at a time. _"As a key partner, there shouldn't be any problems. At least some good may come out of this farce." _As for Sebastien, he'd make sure to take care of him once they were within a safe distance away from the watchful eyes of the guards. 

Stopping before the two posted eunuchs, he spoke in a manner deserving of respect. "I've come to relieve Monsieur Laroche of his duties and take the woman into my care for the rest of the evening."

Both guards eyed each other briefly before returning to their stances, lowering their pikes in front of the door and ignoring him.

Furrowing his brow scornfully, Raoul pressed on. "I'm not _asking _for permission, gentlemen, so stand aside." He allowed a hint of outrage to his voice as he stared hard at the two men.

"We've received no such charge from our master," both men announced simultaneously.

"That is because he currently entertains his guests in the arena, but I shouldn't have to tell you men that, nor should you both doubt my intentions to which I've clearly been given permission, by him, to be here."

The guards glanced nervously at each other, as well as Raoul, trying to discern the validity behind his words.

"If either one of you wish to challenge my authority and disturb your master in the arena, then be my guest." Raoul extended his hand in the direction of the stairs. "I'll gladly wait here until your return," he finished completely stone-faced as he bluffed.

Raoul smirked arrogantly as the guards began to raise their pikes slowly. _"It's a good thing these mindless dolts are all brawn."_

"Very well," the guard at his right grunted while the other moved to unlock the door, neither man wanting to defy the master's orders. After all, it was common knowledge amongst the household that the Comte had spent some private time with Alhena before so his announcement was not too far fetched.

Entering the room, Raoul noticed immediately that the lights were purposely dimmed, and looking over to his left he knew why. There lay Sebastien's motionless body, face down with his arms and legs sprawled out.

"Alhena?" He called out in a hushed whisper. "Where are you?"

He searched Faraj's room twice to be absolutely sure. Alhena was definitely nowhere to be found. _"Not in this room anyway."_ He sat himself at the foot of the bed, gathering his thoughts for his next move. _"One thing's for certain. I've got to get this body out of plain sight." _For whatever reason she left the body the way it was, he wasn't about to question it now. He stood up and walked over to Sebastien's side, crouching down to turn him face up. The deep purple bruising at the man's neck and lower part of his jaw left little doubt in Raoul's mind as to how Sebastien met his fate. He shook his head as he grabbed him by the wrists and then proceeded to pull him in the direction of the closet.

Concealed beneath several dark robes, it was nearly impossible to make the form out within the darkness of the closet, which was practically the size of a secondary room. _"You'd either have to be looking for it or bring a rather large candle to illuminate the space in here." _Raoul closed the door behind him, leaning against it to finalize his revised plan. _"It'll work,"_ he sighed, moving toward the exit. _"At least long enough for me to be well out of range of their weapons."_

As he exited Faraj's room, both guards confronted him with intensity. "What has happened?" They demanded suspiciously, noticing he had emerged from the master's room alone.

"It seems I've interrupted Sebastien in a very _delicate _position," Raoul insinuated with a twisted smile.

The guards joined him, both displaying obscene grins.

"I shall have a few glasses of wine downstairs while he has his way with her. Perhaps I'll be forced to join them if he hasn't finished up by the time I return." Raoul gave a sinister laugh, inwardly cringing at the thought.

The added enthusiasm worked to his advantage as both guards bowed, allowing him to pass.

"Expect my arrival upon the hour, gentlemen." He raised his hand in farewell as he strode down the hall calmly.

Reaching the bottom of the staircase, he turned the corner, his steps at a more hurried pace. _"Wherever you are, Alhena, I hope you've gotten yourself far away from this place."_ As he neared the end of the hall, he was instantly seized by the arm and pulled into a side room.

"In a hurry, Comte?" Alhena grinned at him.

"I was just in Faraj's room looking for you," he replied, somewhat short of breath.

"It appears I've found you first." She moved toward the dresser at the far end of the room. "Help me with this." She braced her hands against the frame as Raoul moved opposite of her.

"I was headed back to the arena thinking you were long gone from this place." He pulled the dresser toward him as she pushed.

"Not quite." As soon as there was enough room, she dropped to the floor, prying the tile that was underneath the dresser with her fingertips.

"You killed Sebastien," he remarked offhandedly as he knelt beside her.

"Don't seem so surprised. He had it coming." Her eyes grew dark at the thought of her earlier encounter as she reached into the hollow space she had uncovered. She pulled free a cloth bundle.

"You didn't exactly _try_ to hide the body." He accused.

"I only had a moment to pick the lock and flee before the second set of guards arrived." Undoing several ties, she then began to spread the cloth out, revealing within a handful of throwing knives and a single twenty-two inch short sword.

Raoul watched silently as Alhena began to fit the weapons upon her body. "Do you have a pistol?"

"I'm much more efficient with these." She secured two more throwing knives at her right thigh with the leather straps that held the bundle in place, and then grabbed the ebony handled short sword as she walked back over to the door. "How did you know where I'd be anyway?" She cracked the door open slightly, looking out into the corridor as she slid the sword into the belt at her waist.

"I was with Sebastien when one of the guards came to collect him to watch over you. In any case, sooner or later they'll be looking for us both. I had told them I spoke with Faraj and that he allowed me to take you into my care, but for obvious reasons I told a second lie to allow me to leave."

"And just what did you say?"

"That you were both otherwise _detained_," he admitted apologetically.

Alhena laughed bitterly before answering. "We've got to get moving. Though that was a very believable excuse, those men weren't _always_ eunuchs. It's only a matter of time before their perverse curiosity gets the better of them."

Nodding, Raoul made a move for the door handle, but was suddenly pushed back by Alhena.

"Shhh!"

"Wha…" He started to ask.

Alhena turned her head, pressing a finger firmly against her lips to quiet him.

They both heard the distant rantings of a woman growing louder and louder as she flew down the hall and passed them in a frenzied panic.

"This isn't good." She cursed under her breath.

"What was she saying?" He asked excitedly.

"She was screaming about a body in the closet, but I didn't…"

Concern crept into his voice. "Hmm…"

"What's the matter?" She asked sharply, turning to face him.

"I stowed Sebastien's body in the closet."

"But did you mutilate the body? I certainly did not!"

With each question, Raoul became more baffled. "What?"

"That woman was screaming about a _bloody _body wrapped up in a closet."

_"Bloody?"_ Raoul tilted his head in confusion, trying to piece the information together in his mind. "Maybe it was Guifford," he mumbled under his breath, going over the endless possibilities.

"What about Guifford? Did you kill him?"

"What? No." He shook his head. "Though, I did shoot him when I came across him and my wife in the hallway near the kitchen."

Alhena's eyes grew wide in surprise. "Your wife's here too?"

"Yes, so is Christine."

Throwing her hands in the air, she paced the room in anger. "Well this just gets better and better, doesn't it?" She rolled her eyes. "And you shot Guifford, but didn't kill him? Then what does he have to do with a body being in the closet?"

Raoul sighed openly at the incessant questions. "I'm not sure. The entire situation is complicated."

She placed a hand on her hip smartly. "Obviously." Her steps quickened as she tried to make sense of it all. "It most certainly is giving me a headache."

Raoul grabbed her shoulders suddenly, preventing her from continuing her nervous trek across the tiled floor. "I promise to give you the finer details later. Just know that Guifford is now on our side and I've sent the three of them through the secret passage to safety. You don't have to worry about them."

"_So Guifford is now an ally. It appears I was right about him. Unfortunately, I don't expect those two girls will stand idly by for long. Not after traveling all this way against my brother's and this man's own orders."_ With that thought, Alhena knew that she and Raoul would have to make their recovery attempt in haste to further avoid any unnecessary occurrences. "How good of a shot are you with that thing?" She asked, staring at the pistol at his side.

Feeling the uncomfortable tension beneath his grip, he removed his hands from her shoulders. "I was highly decorated in the academy for my marksmanship. I assure you, my skills are well above average," he answered proudly.

She raised her eyebrow. "It may take a lot more than one bullet to get through all of these guards."

"I am also a swordsman and trained in the arts of physical combat." He added defensively. "The Navy conditioned me in…"

She gestured with her hand impatiently. "I get it. Just try and keep up."

They quickly exited the room and moved down the corridor, turning a corner and coming face to face with a pair of guards in the middle of the hallway, one of them being the man Raoul had come across earlier with Christine.

The guard recognized him instantly, his features darkening in realization of the Comte's deception. _"He is with the master's Tigress!"_ He drew his sword, rushing at Raoul. "You there, stop!"

There was no lie Raoul could conceivably tell that would get him, as well as Alhena, out of this. _"Enough lies. My actions shall speak for me!"_ He swept one arm back, pushing Alhena behind him. He drew his own sword with the other and lunged at the guard. The sound of steel on steel echoed along the hall as the two men fought.

The second guard had drawn his horn and raised it to his lips as his partner left his side. He'd only managed one short note before his breath whooshed out of him. He stared mutely at the dagger quivering in his chest before he slumped to the ground.

Alhena smiled at her handiwork, glancing over at Raoul. "Are you done yet?"

Grunting with exertion, Raoul strained against the man before him as they were locked in a corps-a-corps. With a heaving shove, he threw the man back and lunged again, his blade piercing the guard deeply enough to send him also to the ground with a gurgle of blood coming out of his mouth.

"Look out!" Alhena cried in alarm.

Before Raoul could question the sudden outburst, Alhena snapped her foot up into his groin. As he crumpled in pain, she whipped another dagger out and threw it with all her might at yet another approaching guard. It sank into his neck with a meaty thud, and he dropped without a sound.

Kneeling beside him, she patted both sides of his face, trying to get his attention. "I'm sorry, Comte. You were about to get ambushed."

Holding his injured parts, Raoul managed to gasp, "Couldn't you have just _asked_ me to move?" He stared at her, visibly pained.

"There wasn't time," she replied with a smirk. "Call it instinct, but I've noted that a good kick is the best way to get a man out of my way."

His eyes rolling, Raoul groaned. _"I really dislike this family."_

Alhena offered him her hands and helped him to his feet. "Come, we have to get down to the dungeon."

Raoul stood shakily, taking several deep breaths while attempting to steady himself. "After you," he coughed.

* * *

The tigers had barely advanced. Their hunger was tempered by their confusion of the flashing blades. Instinct told them they should be avoided, yet their attention was also on the figure pressed against the dais in the middle of the arena. 

Nadir said a quiet prayer of thanks that their movements were impeded for the moment. "Allah is kind, Allah is..." The words died out on his lips as he finally saw the occupants of the second door, a few meters to the side of the tigers. The writhing mass was soon revealed as one after another scaly serpent slithered into view. "Puff Adders?" He cried out incredulously, instantly recognizing the deadly reptiles. "I guess I can count myself fortunate that Erik's fat foot didn't open more than two doors," he muttered ruefully, eyes locked on the creatures.

The movement beneath the swinging blade caused Erik to look down at what was unfolding. His face grim, he renewed his efforts in swinging the pendulum farther back and forth. "Hang in there, Daroga!" He cried out to him.

"Oh… I'm not going anywhere, old boy," he answered, studying the macabre spectacle of death that surrounded him and then looked back up at Erik. "By the way, let me congratulate you on designing such a magnificent torture chamber." He continued, sarcasm dripping in his voice. "Have I mentioned lately what an utterly sick and twisted bastard you are?"

"Not lately, no." He yelled back, comforted at the Persian's verbal assault. It meant he hadn't given up all hope yet. He flexed his gloved hands, giving another mighty tug on the bar he held. He grinned in triumph as he felt the metal give slightly and the blade lurched down an inch. As the pendulum reached it's new apex, he looked up and locked eyes with Faraj, his green eyes alight with intensity, matching the evil stare of the man above. Then the blade swung him away, but in that instant, both men knew the measure of the other.

* * *

Meg and Christine maneuvered Guifford carefully through the thicket as they exited the passageway. Reaching the clearing, the three of them collapsed upon the ground beside Atreus. 

Christine gestured at the heavily saturated handkerchief at Guifford's side. "That needs to be changed." She stood up and moved to the saddlebag upon Atreus's back. "When I grabbed a candle earlier, my hand brushed across something soft." She reached into the bottom of the bag and pulled free a crimson and black square piece of cloth, which Erik used as a shemagh during his ride through the desert. She shook the cloth free of loose sand and then tucked it under her arm, freeing her hands to light a candle.

"This will have to do." Christine handed the cloth to Meg. "It'll be hard to tell when that's soaked through, due to the color, but this should help." She knelt beside Meg and secured the base of the candle within the dirt. "Stay here with Guifford while I go get his horse and Thyestes."

"Are you sure that's wise?" Meg questioned her motives, believing Christine would return to the bath house once she was out of sight.

"We'll need our mounts together in order to make a quick escape," Christine reasoned with her honestly.

"Then let me go with you," Meg answered readily, preparing to get up from her seated position beside Guifford.

Christine placed firm hand onto Meg's shoulder. "No, Meg. You need to be here." She looked down at Guifford, her eyes beaming sympathetically. "He needs you."

Guifford pulled his pepper-box revolver from his side with his free hand and offered it to Christine. "Madame, take this with you."

"I can't take that." She protested, unwilling to take the weapon.

"S'il vous plaît, you must." He eyed her carefully, trying to relay a message she would understand, and then glanced over at Meg.

Christine smiled softly, knowing what he meant to say in the unspoken silence. She knew that if she left without it, Meg would worry about her safety. Hesitating only a moment more, she took the gun from his hand and nodded once as she tucked it behind her.

"Hurry back, mon ami," Meg whispered in a prayer as Christine disappeared off into the night.

* * *

Faraj retreated from the edge to confer with his guards. "Perhaps a few loaded pistols, close at hand, would be prudent." One hurried off, while the other nodded stiffly at his lord. Even from the back, he could see everything happening below. 

Nadir gripped the dagger that Erik had given him earlier, noting that the dozens of snakes were too low to the ground to be affected by the slashing blades. Eventually one would reach him, of this he had no doubt. He was determined to die well, if this was his destiny. His attention was distracted as the clanking of the contraption above, which was controlling the blades, took on a new noise. The now familiar sounds of metal sliding along metal were joined with an underlying squeal of protest, as if a piece were being torn loose. "Erik, no!" He gasped aloud. His skin went cold in total dread, as he suddenly realized what Erik was doing. He followed the trailing black cape as it flew swiftly back at the wall below Faraj and his companions. From his position he could see Erik's powerful arms pulling at the bar in his hands. At any moment it would break, plunging his friend into the dirt and into the midst of the snakes and tigers.

Feeling the rhythm of the machine begin to shake, Erik knew he was close. _"One more pass, that's all." _As the heavy blade swung once more at the far balcony, he pulled hard with all his weight. A tremendous groan sounded as the metal began to tear free from it's casing high above. He rode it for a few seconds more as he approached the wall where Faraj and his cohorts resided. Giving one final pull on the bar, he felt it give way, and in that same instant, he leapt off the pendulum, rolling deftly onto the dirt floor of the arena to avoid injury. It only took a split second for him to regain his footing, yet he was knocked immediately back off his feet by the resounding clamor of the massive blade he'd been riding.

As the pendulum tore completely free, it shot like a cannonball into the brick walls below the balcony. The wall was obliterated, as were the supporting beams within, which the viewing area had been built upon. The assembled crowd cried out in panic as they felt the floor beneath their seats giving way, plunging them forward and down into the arena. Their screams of fear each ended as their bodies tumbled and hit the ground, piling one on top of the other.

The growling of the tigers and the hissing of the snakes did not drown out the bellow of rage Faraj emitted as he stumbled back to his feet. He was fortunate to have remained at the back of the balcony, instead of returning to his previous position at the ledge. He shoved the other guard toward the slope of wreckage leading down to the arena floor, ordering him to help those that had fallen. He then turned and fled along the corridor, determined to find more guards to protect his patrons and himself from both the beasts and the men below.

A few more blades came crashing down throughout the arena, as their bases were part of the same compartment that Erik had managed to destroy. They hit the dirt with a thunderous clamor, one managing to crush several of the snakes as it crashed. More of the creatures though, had begun to approach the disturbance, tasting the air with their forked tongues, and looking on with their dead eyes.

Erik glanced over, noting that Nadir was in no pressing danger, and moved swiftly away from the mass of people that congregated around the ruined wall. He ducked into the open door where the tigers had come from, both looking for a way out and avoiding the beasts outside. With so many predators in one place, the outcome would be inevitable.

Many patrons who'd landed in the arena struggled to their feet, amazed to still be alive after the fall. One in particular landed mere feet away from the approaching snakes. He backed away furiously, not looking where he was going. His confusion ended as six hundred pounds of hungry tiger pounced upon his back and bore him to the ground, raking and tearing at his flesh. The other patrons screamed in terror and stumbled over one another attempting to climb the wreckage of the wall to get out of the arena. Several fell to the ground once more, flung down by larger or heavier companions. Their screams of agony alerted all to the fact that the snakes were indeed venomous. One stiffened immediately and fell, another grasping his thigh and crying for help.

No one volunteered.

Faraj returned with two more eunuchs but was knocked back by the press of people that had managed to climb the wreckage, arriving atop the balcony. He let them pass, his eyes scanning for the man he knew to be Alhena's dear forgotten brother. _"I **will** kill him! Slowly and painfully!" _However, he could not spot the sibling amongst the unbridled anarchy around him.

Another man jostled Faraj, trying to get past, causing him to fall roughly against the wall. One meaty hand shot around and grabbed the patron about the collar of his coat. Faraj's other hand grabbed the man's belt and he bodily threw him off the balcony. "Coward!" He snarled. The patron landed amidst several serpents that, abruptly startled, bit him for his intrusion. The man cried out once, before his body began convulsing from the venom.

A savage roar followed by a scream drew Faraj's gaze at a particularly large patron who was running away from one of the white tigers. The portly man did not pay attention to the many blades that still functioned, and swept across the arena. In one sickening crunch, one tore into him, blasting his body far across the sand. The tiger merely followed and began to feed, it's white face quickly turning crimson as it tore into the fresh meat.

Frustrated, Erik could not find any way out through the den the tigers had been kept in, save for the hole in the wall they were fed through. It was much too small to escape past, and too thick to break apart. He looked back through the opened door at the figure of Nadir, gripping his dagger fiercely. Noting the pattern of the many still swinging blades, he maneuvered his way to his Persian brother.

"This _is_ all going according to plan, right Erik?" Nadir asked, watching him slide across the sand, his cape surrounding his frame obediently as he came to rest against the dais. "I'd hate to think the rampant destruction and total chaos I'm seeing is an accident."

"Everything is going more or less as I'd anticipated," Erik replied, unable to hide his amusement behind the mask. He pressed a hand against his bruised hip he'd landed on earlier when he fell.

"More or less, you say? How comforting," Nadir mused dryly. "Now we just have to get past venomous adders and hungry tigers, and then we can face a few score of armed guardsmen and one deranged giant." He sighed. "Lovely."

"Precisely!" Erik grinned, clapping his friend on the back and preparing their next plan of attack.

* * *

**Author's Note**  
My apologies for missing the last update. I had intended this one last Wednesday, but the documents manager was not working for me (that seems to be my luck every time I want to post early -sighs-). Some of you know I went out of town last weekend, though I did end up staying longer than originally planned (just got back earlier this morning). Anyway, I hope everyone enjoys this update. Have a phantastic weekend everyone! -swishy cape hugs- 


	32. Chapter 32

**Author's Note**  
This chapter has more action. As always, it's descriptive to the point necessary. At least I don't feel that I'm being overly gratuitous. Hopefully everyone enjoys the read, regardless.

**CHAPTER 32**

The shimmering light of the moon lit the path Christine had taken to reach The Jeweled Moon. It seemed as if it would take forever to arrive at her destination on foot, but now it was in clear view. She could make out several carriages and a row of horses tied at variable intervals at the side of the bath house.

Coming within a few feet of the long water trough, she made a mad dash to crouch down beside it, as a group of men came bolting from around the corner, yelling hysterically. They scrambled upon their horses and were soon joined by several more, pushing and shoving one another to attain their mounts.

Christine looked on curiously as the men fled in haste. _"What in the world is going on?" _She listened closely to the conversion of two strangers closest to her, as they were preparing their carriage.

"That was some display in there!" The driver exclaimed to his master, reaching down and searching for the reins amongst the floorboards.

"Indeed!" The heavyset patron exclaimed, wrapping his hand eagerly around the carriage door. "No doubt, there will be plenty of bodies for those wild beasts to prey upon."

The driver pulled the harness tight around the horse. "That was his idea of entertainment?" He shook his head. "That maniac has clearly lost his mind!"

The man nodded in agreement, straightening his tie with his free hand. "Let's not stand around here any longer. I'm sure we'd both hate to find ourselves on the menu for those creatures."

With the tip of his hat, the driver climbed to the top of the bench as his master disappeared into the carriage.

"_Beasts?" _Christine's confusion mounted as she watched the two strangers drive off as others continued to rush off atop their mounts wildly. _"Something terrible has happened."_

Amidst the chaos of wild-eye patrons eager to get away, she managed to grab Thyestes as well as Guifford's horse. She pulled both horses by the reins and as soon as she cleared the fencing, she got on top of Thyestes, wrapping the length of the other horse's reigns around her right hand as they trotted back toward the dry riverbed.

* * *

"So what's next, _Erik_?" Nadir asked in a crazed panic, as the two of them watched the action around their position. "How do you expect to get us past all of this?" He gestured madly. 

"Well, we need to get you out of here first. I can't very well leave you alone here while there's still all this danger about." As he spoke, he watched another of the scrambling patrons stumble and fall, swiftly dispatched by the angry serpents that surrounded them. "How are you feeling by the way, Daroga?"

"Surprisingly fine, aside from being certain of my death." He quipped, a feeling of dread coming over him. "No thanks to you!"

Without warning, Erik's gloved hand swung out and slapped the Persian hard across the face.

Nadir's look of pure incredulity was priceless.

Erik looked at him, calculating his reaction. He began chuckling. It mounted within him until finally, unable to control it any longer, he doubled over in a fit of laughter. "I'm sorry, my friend," he smiled as his mirth subsided and he looked up once more. "I just thought..." His explanation ended as a heavy fist crashed into his jaw, sending him sprawling to the floor. He looked up, surprise evident beneath the sand blasted mask.

Nadir was fuming. His shoulders raised and fell in time with his labored breathing. "Are you mad, Erik!" He accused, pressing his left hand against his inflamed cheek.

Rubbing his jaw carefully, moving it back and forth, Erik replied, "No, relieved."

Peering at him with suspicion, Nadir cocked his head. "I don't understand."

"Are you angry?" Erik inquired, raising his eyebrow.

"Hell yes I'm angry, Erik!" Nadir snapped back.

Smiling wide, Erik clapped him on the shoulder again. "Good. We may just make it out after all. I knew I couldn't rely on you if you were still acting like a woman frustrated with the ties of her petticoat."

"Now see here..." Nadir began hotly.

"I needed the man who brought us here from half a world away… that fearsome Persian avenger from before, Daroga." Erik looked him in the eyes, searching for signs of his friend's inner strength. "Are you with me?" He asked, extending his gloved hand to him.

Nadir was still angry, knowing he had been goaded into action. His anger brought him insight however. He realized that there was still fight within him, and all was not lost this night. One hand gripped his knife as he stared out at the beasts, men, and slashing blades before him. The other hand raised and joined together with Erik's as the Phantom pulled him to his feet.

* * *

A pair of hard, cruel eyes watched the carnage below. Faraj noted the strength and resolve of the two men in the middle of the arena. Despite the screams of the dying, and the roars of the tigers, they stood together, weapons drawn, awaiting whatever would come. Faraj was not a coward, but neither was he a fool. If these two somehow managed to escape, it was entirely probable they would come looking for him. Even the mightiest warrior may be slain by the smallest man on the field if the circumstances weren't in his favor. He'd read that somewhere. "It's time I bettered my odds." He muttered to himself. Motioning for the two other guards he'd brought down to come near, he raised his voice. "If either of them manages to get up here, slay them!" He commanded, gesturing at the pair far out on the sandy floor. 

Both guards sharply saluted and moved to help yet another patron up from the wreckage as Faraj hastily departed.

"_What better leverage against a determined man, than someone he loves,"_ the big man mused as he strode down the hallways to retrieve Alhena from his quarters. The screams of fear and anguish that echoed throughout the house brought an odd smile to his evil features.

* * *

Alhena took the lead as they proceeded down the hall toward the main section of the bath house. She held a hand up, causing Raoul to abruptly stop short. She knelt low and cautiously peered around the corner. There were two guards at the front door still, but no others in sight. Unfortunately, both held their weapons at the ready, as the terrified patrons and the many horn blasts that had sounded earlier, had brought them to full alert. There would be another pair just outside that door as well, sure to come at any sound of fighting in the near halls. 

"What is it, Alhena?" Raoul whispered, his eyes continually glancing back at the way they had come from.

"A minor problem, Comte." She held her finger to her lips thoughtfully as she rose back up.

"Just _how _minor?"

Her eyes glittered in the lamplight as she replied offhandedly. "Oh, four guards or so," she smirked. "That I know of, at least."

"It frightens me just how much your words echo those of your brother." He rolled his eyes and adjusted his sword in it's sheathe.

Alhena turned to face him. "If we go back around, we run the risk of many more, not to mention that we will have to pass near Faraj's study. Without knowing exactly where he is at this time, I'm not quite ready to take that chance." She arched her eyebrows sharply. "Are you?"

He shook his head quietly. "So we must go past them, then?"

"There's no other way to get to the dungeon, aside from the staircase entrance. I do not know how to open it from this side though," she told him.

Raoul squared his shoulders in resignation. "Then let's get this over with." He spun around the corner and raised his pistol at the nearest of the guards, still a dozen yards away. He pulled the trigger and the thunder of the gunshot echoed all throughout the house. The guard dropped like a marionette with it's strings cut, the bullet striking him true in the center of his forehead.

The other guard gaped at him for a moment before raising his pike at this newest threat. Behind him, the doors opened up and two more men filed in, weapons at the ready.

Raoul advanced grimly, not liking the odds, but knowing there were others in the house that were counting on him. He stuck his spent pistol back into his belt and drew his saber, his eyes dark and dangerous. As the nearest guard charged him, he dodged the clumsy strike of the pike and kicked the man solidly in the stomach, propelling him backwards into his newly arrived friends. All three fell to the floor in a heap of bodies and awkward weapons. As the first began to rise, Raoul thrust his sword home in the man's chest, yanking it back as the guard fell lifeless to the ground, blood spurting from the wound.

Alhena followed him in amazement. She wouldn't have thought him capable of such cold-blooded violence. Both of her hands held daggers, but there was little chance to use them in this narrow corridor. Still, she searched for an opening, hoping to help Raoul.

Her assistance was unnecessary. Earlier realizing the pikes the guards carried were more for show than any particular proficiency in them, Raoul attacked with reckless abandon. He had disabled the third guard by avoiding a feeble thrust of the weapon and dodging around the wooden shaft, slashing his blade deep across the man's muscular belly. The guard fell to the ground, hands pressed against the wound tightly as his life swiftly ebbed away.

The last man looked at the advancing Comte in unreasoning fear. Throwing down his pike he ripped open the main doors of the house and fled out into the night.

Alhena grabbed Raoul roughly about the shoulders. "Stop him before he brings others!" She cried aloud, trying to move him out of the way.

His eyes almost sad, he pulled his other pistol forth, "_The one I shot Guifford with earlier," _he realized, and took aim. He followed the sights, watching as the guard continued his run. He suddenly felt a sharp pang of regret, yet pulled the trigger and bowed his head as the man lurched forward, lying facedown and motionless in the dirt. The still figure, illuminated beneath the bright night sky, reminded him momentarily of his brother; just another pawn in a game beyond his understanding. He sighed in regret and shook his head to clear the image.

Seeing the emotions conflicting upon his face, Alhena moved to comfort him. "You did what was necessary, Comte." She assured him.

"_I only pray that there will be no more need for such necessities."_ Raoul thought to himself. It was not in his nature to kill so haphazardly, but he knew that desperate times called for such extreme measures. Ultimately, he would do whatever was necessary to assure the safety of those who depended on him to see them through. That was enough to satisfy his reasons, as he tore himself free from Alhena's grasp and hurried down the hall toward the door to the dungeon.

* * *

Startled, Meg stood up, bracing the small pistol Christine had given her back in Bornu. In the distance, she could make out a rider, possibly two, but she was not certain. She leveled her pistol, prepared to shoot if it was not who she was expecting. 

With a sigh of relief, she returned the pistol to her side, finally recognizing Christine as she came into view.

Christine quickly dismounted and tied both horses beside Atreus and the Barb she had acquired from the innkeeper. Once secured, she then rushed over to Erik's saddlebag.

Meg was curious as to what Christine was searching for within the saddlebag she rummaged through hurriedly. "What are you doing, mon ami?" She asked as she approached her dearest friend.

"I'm going back in," Christine answered instantly, pulling free yet another candle to light her way through the passageway.

"Oh no, you mustn't!" Meg tried desperately to reason with her. "You heard what Raoul told us! We're supposed to wait here for them!"

"Meg, I have to do this," she replied, ignoring her pleas and walking past her toward the thicket.

"Christine, wait!" Meg called after her.

Christine stopped just before entering the dry brush that concealed the secret entrance. She turned to face Meg and told her to take good care of Guifford. "Try to keep him comfortable. I'll be back as soon as I can." She promised.

* * *

"I have a plan, Daroga." Erik said calmly, as several snakes, unaffected by the flashing blades flying above them, began to crawl near. 

"What, again?" Nadir responded sarcastically.

"Do you _need_ another slap? Erik teased, looking at three of the nearest serpents.

"You do _know _you're not as funny as you think you are, right old boy?" Nadir joked, holding his dagger steady, awaiting the approach of the creatures. He looked beyond their position and noted that one of the tigers was lying unmoving at the base of the ruined balcony. From this distance it was unclear what had killed it though. The mass of snakes that still swarmed about the area gave him a pretty good guess however.

"Just be ready." Reaching up, Erik unsnapped the fastenings of his cloak and twirled it about his left arm. As the snakes approached, he noticed that even in their primeval forms, there was a rhythm to their motion. Timing their movements, Erik whipped the heavy cloth of his cape over their slithering bodies.

"Now!" He yelled and jumped forward, feet planting on either side of one of the struggling forms.

Nadir mimicked his motion, watching in awe as the material of the cape bucked beneath them. Without further discussion, they both plunged their weapons down into the material several times, until the forms underneath became motionless.

"I apologize. It seems you did have a plan after all." Nadir raised his hand to his forehead and bowed to his friend in respect.

Erik reached down and grabbed the worn shirt Nadir had laid out as a prayer mat earlier. He wiped his sword clean and tossed it back at the Persian, who caught it fast.

"Although," Nadir continued. "It would appear you will now be in need of a new cloak when this is all said and done." He cleaned his blade and tossed the ragged shirt aside. _"And I will need a new shirt." _

"I fully intend to take the cost out of Faraj's miserable hide." Erik's eyes blazed fiercely, intent on the many other snakes moving about the dirt floor of the arena.

Their focus on the other creatures was interrupted by the crash of a heavy door being thrown open unexpectedly. "What now?" Erik snarled, as they both spun to face their new threat.

"Erik!" A woman's voice cried out to him.

His anger turned to joy as he saw Alhena and Raoul enter the light of the hanging lanterns.

"Stay back!" He warned, seeing they were near the path of two of the still functioning blades. "It's not safe!"

"That's blatantly obvious, brother!" She called to him. Suddenly her eyes went wide "Behind you!" She screamed and pointed beyond them.

Erik and Nadir only had a moment to absorb the shock of another tiger pouncing upon them. The great creature bore Nadir to the ground, lashing out with one tremendous paw, sending Erik flying as he tried to help. He immediately flung himself into a backwards roll upon landing, avoiding another shining blade that would have destroyed him.

Nadir had his left forearm in the beast's mouth as the tiger tried to rip it free from his body. Adrenaline fueled his desperation however, as he retained his dagger and plunged it repeatedly into the neck and flank of the thrashing creature above him. The great cat released him with a pained bellow and staggered away, it's blood pouring onto the sands. It collapsed in a heap a few steps later, the amber eyes meeting Nadir's one last time. It's labored breathing became strained and ragged as it swiftly died, the head coming to rest on the sandy floor.

Erik scrambled back to Nadir, trying to hide the worry on his masked face. Blood flowed in excess from the deep punctures in the Persian's arm where the tiger had mauled him. "Daroga?"

Nadir groaned in response. "I don't think I'm going to be much use to you anymore, old boy."

Erik reached over for the remnants of his cloak and tore several long strips of cloth from it to bandage these new wounds. "You've done enough, Nadir," he answered solemnly. "It's time to get you out of here." He winced sharply with his motions as he wrapped the lengths of makeshift bandaging around the Nadir's arm. He made sure to tie the knots tight to prevent any further blood loss.

"Erik, your shoulder…" Nadir gasped, staring at the long raking slashes in Erik's skin where the tiger had pummeled him.

"It will heal," he assured him. "Come, let us begone from here." He brought Nadir to his feet, shouldering his injured companion's good arm whilst wrapping his own about his friend's waist to steady him

Ignoring his own pain, Erik led Nadir carefully to the open door where Raoul and Alhena looked on anxiously. He had paused several times along the way, ever mindful of the paths of the blades that still crisscrossed the arena.

"Take him," Erik grunted, leaning Nadir into Raoul's open arms.

"We all need to go, Erik!" Alhena demanded, looking at both of their newly acquired wounds in concern.

"No. There is one last thing I need to attend to. I have to be sure that this is over."

Raoul propped a semi-conscious Nadir up on his shoulder. "It _is _over, Erik. Everyone is out of the house. Meg and Christine are waiting for us in the wash near the secret entrance."

Erik's hand shot out and grabbed Raoul around the throat on pure instinct. "Christine is _here_? Explain!"

As Alhena grabbed his wrist, trying to break her brother's hold, Raoul gasped weakly. "She's here because she loves you and would die for you, _despite_ all of our warnings. You _know this_, you son of a bitch!"

Like the flip of a switch, Erik released him and lowered his head in sudden shame. Anger was quick to fuel him beyond reasoning, and it always ended poorly in Raoul's case.

"Believe me, I was just as surprised when I found out they were here." Raoul rubbed at his neck sorely.

"Take them, Comte. Get them all far away from here. I'll rejoin you when it's done."

"Erik, I..." Alhena began, her eyes pleading with his.

"No." He waved her off. "This ends tonight. I won't have you looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life, nor will I stand to have Christine and our unborn child living in fear of what may happen if this play does not have an ending." He turned away from her and ran back into the arena, his emotions wreaking havoc within him. The only pause he allowed himself in his determined course of action was to stoop and retrieve the tattered remains of his cape, as he rushed toward the rubble of the ruined balcony.

* * *

Faraj stepped over the body of one of his eunuchs as he approached the hall leading to his quarters. He noted idly the garish wound upon the man's chest, knowing only a very sharp blade could leave that type of mark on a body. 

Climbing the stairs and turning the far corner, he could see two of his guards standing in place beside the door to his room, as if nothing were amiss.

"Have you been here this whole time?" He snapped at them as he approached, his voice seething even in an effort to appear calm.

Both men visibly paled. "Yes, master. We're awaiting the return of the Comte de Chagny. He said he'd return upon the hour."

"Sebastien is still in there with her then?" His dark eyes narrowed ominously before the two men.

"No one has left this room since we've arrived, master, I swear it!" One guard attested firmly.

"Step aside!" He growled at them, pushing the door open. The room was well lit, and to his dismay, absolutely empty. He strode to the balcony, but saw that the door was still locked from the inside. He then proceeded to check all the windows, finding none of the iron bars disturbed in such a manner that would allow for anyone to escape. "Where the hell is she?" His voice rose in furious rage.

The guards outside resumed their positions nervously as he exited. "I swear lord, the only person in or out since we've arrived was the Comte. He said he was to relieve Monsieur Laroche of his duties at your orders."

Understanding finally dawned upon Faraj. He'd been duped.

"I gave _no_ such orders!" Faraj roared, pulling his massive scimitar from his side and quickly dispatching the eunuch closest to him.

The body fell to the floor, the head separating cleanly and rolling at the feet of the remaining guard.

"Come with me, you fool, or suffer a fate far worse than this!" He wiped the blood from his blade against the soft leather of the dead eunuch's vest, and then returned the great scimitar to his side.

The sole guard followed his master obediently as they strode purposefully down the hallway.

Faraj fumbled for his ring of keys as he marched toward his destination. "_With my Tigress gone, the Comte betraying me, and my other patrons either dead or dispersed to the four winds, I'd better take care of business immediately."_ He would open the door to his study and grab all of his pertinent papers and monetary promissory notes, to hold on his person. _"Then," _he vowed menacingly,_ "I shall deal with these insolent maggots myself."_


	33. Chapter 33

**CHAPTER 33**

It was apparent to Jean Louis, that tonight would be an evening filled with unexpected opportunities. He was ever an observer, a man who preferred to stay behind the scenes, and as he had watched the masked captive swinging himself upon one of the giant pendulums that now swept across the floor of The Master's Conundrum, he knew that the time to execute his plan was before him. He hadn't known Faraj to fear anyone, yet the dark daredevil that challenge him from his suspended position above the arena had obviously made an impression on the great master, who rallied forth the guards nearest him for protection. This was the opportunity Jean had waited patiently for, the defining moment to bring the ideas he had long been brewing, to fruition.

Earlier, he had seen Guifford, Meg, and Ranier, all disappear into a room upstairs. The outcome of what had transpired within that room was obvious to Jean, as he viewed the emerging pair awhile later minus one Ranier. He snorted at Guifford's obvious desertion, watching as he helped Meg gingerly down the staircase._ "I never did like that giant ox," _he mused.

To be sure that Ranier was truly dead, as he had ventured to guess, he decided to check the room. _"I suppose they did me a favor," _he smirked, finding Ranier's body against the far wall of the closet._ "I surely would have killed this man before we left this place regardless."_ He chuckled as he shut the closet door. Quietly exiting the room, he made his way back downstairs.

He had also come across Alhena, unbeknownst to her, leaving Faraj's quarters during the changing of the guard. That could only have meant that Sebastien, whom he knew to be watching over her, had befallen a similar fate. There was no way in hell that his partner would be so careless unless he were dead. _"You've been tripping on your own tongue since you met that broad, and now she has become the bane of your very existence, mon ami."_

He followed Alhena, wondering why she had ducked into a servant's room, instead of fleeing outright while she had the chance. _"It appears she cares a lot more for that prisoner than I thought." _He shrugged his shoulders. _"Love is both blind, and stupid."_ He snickered silently, and then ducked further behind the large potted palm as he heard footsteps coming from the opposite end of the corridor. "_What's this?" _He narrowed his eyes in scrutiny as he watched Raoul stride down the hallway. "_Enter the young blonde hero_!" He mocked, sneering. He had known from the beginning that Raoul was not conceding to Faraj's wishes, but nonetheless he allowed the charade to continue. _"Unlike the others, I know very well that your tried and true nature would never allow you to be so willing to participate in criminal activities."_ He shook his head, thinking back on another time, long ago, a time when he himself was cast from the Navy because of Raoul's unyielding sense of honor and duty.

Jean had been a part of a small band of men that had been commissioned to act as privateers on the behalf of a wealthy nobleman who detested the commands of the crown. He would issue his sailors orders, which undermined the desires of the Emperor. Raoul had been but an Aspirant in rank when he boarded the battleship La Gloire in Toulon. For Jean, the young man's arrival would prove to be the beginnings of his downfall. The then Vicomte had later discovered their disloyalty to the Emperor and exposed them and all of their corrupt intentions.

Raoul had not been aboard La Gloire the night the authorities came for Jean and the rest of the debauched crew. And had it not been for one particular partner to expose him during the arrests, he would have never been amongst the detainees, for even then he remained within the shadows. He later took pleasure in collecting that stoolpigeon's tongue for his betrayal, fate having brought them both to the same prison. The Emperor had been generous and spared Jean and the other fool from the gallows for stepping forward and divulging their conspiring sources. The nobleman, however, was hanged as a traitor, his corpse beheaded before being returned to his wife for burial. She later flung herself off of a cliff in shame.

During his incarceration, Jean began working as a henchman for the warden, removing 'undesirables' as he put it. Those men not in the warden's favor often suffered fatal accidents. One unfortunate man tumbled down a flight of stone stairs, breaking his neck. Another had incredibly managed to strangle himself within his sheets, and still a third developed an oddly fatal allergy to a dish that all who knew him, professed was his favorite. For two years he had done the warden's dirty work, thus gaining his loyalty, and soon thereafter his freedom. He would come to find out along the way that the warden was just one of the many officials involved in the slave trade growing in the underground societies of many cities.

The day he was released into Sebastien's care, to serve an even greater cause, was the day the warden had announced Jean's death by suicide, the unnamed body burned to avoid any unnecessary inquiries. Since the warden's word was law, anything documented and signed by his own hand was never looked at too closely.

Jean was not surprised to see Alhena pull Raoul by the arm, grabbing him out of the hall and into the room with her. _"It figures he would be helping her."_ He moved from his hiding place and continued toward his destination. _"It's no matter. That twit, Comte, and his friends have no idea of the roles they play,"_ he laughed. _"By the time this night is through, they will have done my bidding for me."_

The game was set in his favor now, and he would let the pieces fall where they may while he secured his future. Grinning, Jean strode down the marbled halls, having come earlier from Faraj's study and now leaving the master's quarters. He ignored all else around him as the chaos ensued within the house, tucking behind him a worn leather binder and pocketing a single gold key. His past was but a lifetime ago and things would be different now. _"And now to gather my men..." _He hummed to himself as he walked, knocking the occasional lantern over, knowing a few small fires would only add to the continuing anarchy.

* * *

Faraj was furious for several different reasons. Not only was his evening ruined, and many important patrons of his organization killed or scared off permanently, but now his study had been burglarized. He noted that only specific drawers of his document's cabinet were forced open, their contents empty, and the lock to the backroom picked. To add to the list of unfortunate events, he now had a thief to worry about. _"A very resourceful and knowledgeable thief!"_ He moved into the next room, only to find that the key, which fit within the lock of his safe box in his bedroom, was now missing. It was the only key he didn't keep on his key ring, though now he wished he had. _"All of this because of those two fools!"_

Faraj stormed down the halls in a blinding rampage, pushing patrons and servants aside. "Move wench!" He yelled, shoving a frightened servant girl to the floor.

She collapsed before him in surprise and pain, the terror in her eyes amusing him.

"Actually, don't go too far. I may send for you later!" He grinned evilly and hurried off.

Trying to gather more guards for his disposal, he found that his men, too, seemed to be unusually absent from the premises, though he did manage to collect a pair of guards on the way back to his bedroom. He hoped to catch whoever it was that betrayed his confidence. _"The last thing the miserable wretch will remember in this life is the taste of my blade! And when I'm through, it will be but the beginning of my vengeance this night! I **will** bring chaos to order for I am the master of this house!"_

Arriving at his room, he posted all three men before the door, pulling the length of his scimitar from his side. "If anyone, other than me, tries to come in or out, kill them!" He roared and then threw the doors open with a thunderous crash.

* * *

Alhena, Nadir, and Raoul had not encountered any resistance as they exited the lower levels of the bath house, but they hadn't expected to. Patrons and servants alike, scrambled to get outdoors and away from the dangers that lay within the house. With the main doors unguarded, the three moved along with the crowd toward it. 

Once outside, Alhena turned to Raoul, "There are horses on the opposite end of this building, separate from those that are kept purely for the purpose of the visiting patrons."

"But my mount is…"

"Further back and much too difficult to get to with this panicked crowd," she finished for him. "Just trust me. Follow this path and there you will find Faraj's black stallion as well as the mounts of those in his service, closest to him."

"And where are you going?" Raoul asked in confusion seeing her resolute expression. "I won't leave you, Alhena. I've made a promise to…"

"Like my brother, I too have unfinished business to deal with," she snapped at him.

Raoul stared at her in disbelief. "You're not seriously thinking of going back in there?"

"Please, Comte," her eyes revealed the deep concern she felt for the Persian as she viewed the newest wounds Nadir had acquired, "you must take him away from here."

Sensing the tension between them, Nadir interrupted. "You'd better not argue with her, Comte," he managed in a gruff voice. "A woman's mind is hardly ever swayed by the likes of us mere men." He attempted to laugh, but began to hiss in pain at the effort.

Raoul was torn by desire to help and duty to the man he supported in his right arm. Feeling Nadir relying more and more on his strength to keep him standing, there was no other choice for him to consider. "Don't make me regret my decision of letting you go," he said firmly.

"My brother once said something similar to me. What I shall tell you now will be different. This is my decision and should you come to regret anything, it will be in _not_ letting me go."

Accepting her wishes and knowing he could say nothing more to make her change her mind, he nodded sharply. "Be careful." He then turned away with Nadir, moving down the path she had pointed out to him.

As soon as they rounded the side of the house, Alhena forced her way back inside. She would go to the one place she knew Faraj would be. _"All these years you've taken away from me, believing I've had nowhere to go, no one that loved me…"_ she checked her body, counting the throwing knives she had left and patting the short sword at her side, _"…you will pay for all that you've done to me, Faraj!"_ Her pace hastened as she climbed the staircase toward the master suite.

* * *

Arriving once again at the false wall, Christine took a moment to secure her weapons before slipping into the corridor. She cursed herself for leaving Guifford's pistol inside of Thyestes pack as she rode back from the side of the bath house. She prayed there would be no need for it, thankful that at least she still carried the dagger Raoul had given her. _"I should be alright. After all, I'm still disguised as common servant."_ There would be no reason for anyone to question her, she reasoned, other than for household duties, though she did hope to avoid that this time around. 

As before, she depressed the hidden catch which allowed the wall to slide open and then she moved into the corridor. She turned the wall sconce quickly as she heard a distant commotion coming from the other end of the hall.

She could smell smoke as she traveled down the corridor of servant's quarters, several women rushed passed her, all retreating to their rooms in a panic. One older woman came out of her room with two large bags filled with her belongings from what Christine could gather.

"Hurry, you must leave this place while you still can!" The woman told her in a halting accent.

Christine was practically knocked back by the bundles the woman carried as she pushed passed her and scurried down the hall toward the main entrance. _"Raoul must be around here somewhere." _She did her best to look amidst the crowd that filled the main foyer._ "If I can get to him we can go down to the dungeon together to free Erik and Nadir."_ She refused to entertain the idea of her husband being dead and until she was certain, she dared not think it.

Suddenly, her thoughts were interrupted as a massive hand shoved her down.

"Move, wench!" An angry voice demanded.

She fell roughly to the floor, her eyes widening in shock as she saw that it was Faraj.

He looked her up and down, sparking an unreasoning panic within her. "_Does he know?"_

She wondered, dread filling the pit of her stomach.

The big man leered at her and said something to her before continuing down the hall. She didn't hear him as she was gripped in fear of the man. She shed a few tears of relief when she realized she was alone once more. Her watery eyes however caught a motion down the hall in the distance. She cocked her head to the side, praying her eyes were not deceiving her. The figure in black flew down the hallway and out of sight down another. _"Erik?"_

* * *

Erik stalked the halls in search of Faraj, ignoring the throbbing pain in his left shoulder. Glancing down, he could see the deep scratches the tiger had dealt him. They would need to be tended to soon, but his resolve would see him through the night, no matter what the cost. 

As he rounded a corner he noticed an unusual wall. It looked like another secret door, but one that had been poorly closed. He approached carefully and peered inside. It opened into Faraj's study. The room was empty of people but it was apparent it had been ransacked earlier. Papers lay everywhere, drawers of the desk flung open, and paintings on the wall were either crooked or on the floor as if someone had been searching for something in particular. He paused, analyzing the room and trying to decipher if there were anything of importance that may have been overlooked.

A barked order in the distance reminded him of his purpose. "Put out those fires, damn you all!" He heard Faraj's harsh voice ahead of him. With a sudden whirl of his tattered cloak, he ran off after the noises. He passed several long hallways without a second glance, turning yet another corner and seeing smoldering patches along the plush carpet. No one was in sight however, and he rushed ahead. He was back where he'd started. The grand staircase with the hidden door he'd exited after escaping from the arena. It was down now. Someone had closed it to go upstairs. Having never been up to the floor above, he strode up the stairs cautiously. Idly he wondered where the third tiger had disappeared to.

Reaching the top, he tried to remember the layout that Alhena had drawn for him back in Bornu. Faraj's quarters lay to the right. He backed against a wall and looked around the corner. It was clear until the end of the hallway. Once more there were scorched pieces of carpet where fires had apparently taken place earlier. In his favor, the shattered lamps on the floor no longer shed any light, and he felt his confidence soar as he approached in near total darkness.

One final turn brought him up short. At the end of the hall, three guards milled about as a crashing sound of thrown furniture echoed down the hallway. Their frightened faces showed the fact that they all wished to be anywhere other than where they were.

Unfurling his Punjab lasso, he silently tossed the noose down the poorly lit hall. Their lack of reaction made him smile as he held the end of the rope in his left hand. Erik's eyes grew flinty as he stepped boldly into their view.

As one they charged him, pikes leveled at his chest. The first one passed the noose but the second gave a startled yell as his foot stepped within the circle and he was instantly yanked off his feet, knocking the third man behind him down.

The first guard tried to simply impale him on the pike. Erik sidestepped, turned, and pulled on the shaft, stooping over at the same time. The man's momentum caused him to go flying as Erik snapped back up. He crashed into the far wall, landing with a heavy crunch of broken bones. His moans were low and unimportant. He could be dealt with later.

He turned his attention back on the other two guards who were regaining their feet now. As the one he snared tugged at the rope around his foot, the other came rushing at him. Erik watched him approach, still holding the end of his lasso. Ducking a high slash of the huge weapon, he looped the slack of his rope around the man's neck and slid behind him, leaning forward and pulling the guard off his feet.

The third man finally had his foot free but he watched in horror as his companion kicked and flailed in vain, clutching at the rope around his neck as the life was slowly being choked out of him. The masked stranger released his captive as his movements ceased, the body falling to the ground like a sack of grain, the face purple from lack of oxygen. Having seen enough, the last guard attacked.

Erik stood his ground and let him come. At the last moment, he ducked low and lashed out with his booted heel. It connected solidly with the man's shin, sending him sprawling to the ground. A moment later, Erik was back up and thrust his sword into the guard's back, ending his struggles. The fight was over in seconds and was all but completely silent.

Refitting his lasso about his body, Erik strode over to the open door and glanced inside.

Faraj stood at the far end of the room, standing before an opening in the wall which lay behind a large portrait of himself.

The scene was similar to what Erik had witnessed in the study, but none of those paintings held any secrets behind them. "Missing something?" He said coldly, stepping into the bedroom with a twisted smile.

Faraj turned around slowly. "Well if it isn't my Tigress's dear long lost brother. I trust your brief time in the chamber was uneventful?" He smirked, seeing the seeping wounds on the former prisoner's shoulder.

"It was an amusing little diversion, yes." Erik strode forward, his blade out.

Faraj's own eager smile showed he too, had awaited this moment of reckoning.

The two men circled each other, neither raising their weapon yet. They simply stared at each other in hatred and defiance.

"Dare I ask what happened to my guards outside?" Faraj asked wryly, his heavy scimitar held easily in his right hand.

"I would think my presence here would be a testament to their ineptitude, _O'_ _Master of the house_." Erik noted, searching for an opening in his opponent.

Faraj shrugged. "A pity. I will have to seriously open my coffers to replace all the men I've lost here tonight."

"I doubt that will be a very pressing need for a dead man," Erik replied forebodingly. "Although, if you're in a spending mood, I can always send you the bill for a new cape." He held up the frayed edges of cloth in his left hand.

With a snarl, Faraj lunged at the man before him.

Erik jumped away from the thrust, landing atop the large bed at the far corner of the room. He immediately stepped down as the big man pressed him, his heavy sword slashing at his midsection. A second cut made him slide to the right as yet another powerful slash came at him. There was no chance of simply crossing swords with the much larger and heavier Faraj. Any attempt would likely send him flying. If Erik were to win, he knew it would require every ounce of his speed and agility.

Faraj swung hard, his scimitar whistling as it cut the air.

Erik ducked the swipe and whipped his own blade left and right, scoring two small hits upon the thick muscles of the master's right arm and leg. They were insignificant, he knew. Yet, every drop of blood he shed would slow him down until he made a crucial mistake.

Again, Faraj sliced down with his mighty blade, his longer reach with both his arms and the size of his weapon, keeping Erik from getting too close for any lucky fatal thrusts.

As Erik skipped to the side, he darted out his sword and slashed a line of blood across Faraj's chest. Unfortunately it did no damage other than to infuriate him further.

The two continued to stalk each other, Erik's sword only occasionally raised to deflect a cut that came too close. The majority of his time however, he spent dodging the blows, hoping at some point soon, Faraj's titanic display of strength would play itself out.

* * *

Alhena trusted her instincts. After leaving Raoul and Nadir, she rushed along the corridors back to the main hall. The grand staircase was lowered and all was mostly silent. Looking down a side hallway, she could see a lamp lying on the floor, the flames beginning to consume the heavy carpeting. Disregarding it, she climbed the stairs, somehow sensing that Faraj would be in one of the rooms above her. Her hand strayed to the hilt of her short sword, determined to redeem herself for all the time she'd spent as a prisoner of this house. 

As she approached the final turn that would lead to Faraj's quarters, the dim light in the hall showed several sprawled figures before her. Upon closer inspection, she noted they were all guards. As she moved past the first, she felt a hand clutching weakly about her ankle. Looking down she saw the man struggling to stop her, trying to pull himself up. She kicked out with her free leg, catching the guard under the chin, sending him blissfully into unconsciousness.

She continued down the hall, her movements spurred by the sound of fighting within the far room. She hurried into the room and her eyes grew suddenly wide as she saw her brother and former master locked in mortal combat. From her position, there was no clear winner. Both men were breathing heavily, especially Faraj as he swung and slashed with his heavy scimitar.

_"No!"_ Erik cursed as he saw his sister enter the room._ "Why did you come back, Alhena!"_ His concentration was almost broken but at the last minute he leaned back, Faraj's sword coming within inches of crossing his neck.

Alhena held her hands on her weapons as she moved to the side of the room, waiting for an opening to aid her brother. Feeling like she had that moment, she pulled one of her trusty daggers forth. She prepared to throw it, whispering a prayer for any gods that would listen, that it would fly swift and true.

A hand grabbed her wrist roughly and squeezed it hard, sending the blade clattering to the floor. She turned in shock and anger, now face to face with…Sebastien!

His eyes burned into her in utter loathing. "Next time you try to kill someone, make sure they're dead!"

"I'll try to remember that." Her free hand shot forth, the open palm striking him harshly against his face.

He accepted the hit without complaint and snapped his head forward into hers, butting her into insensibility.

Her knees felt weak and she sagged to the floor, her eyes still locked in hatred on the man above her.

The latest noises caused Faraj to look over his shoulder at the scene near the closet. Sebastien had Alhena by the wrist, as she was lying limply on the floor. "Take care of her, but do not kill her!" He commanded, lashing out at the man in black before him.

"With pleasure," Sebastien leered down at her, tearing away her weapons.

Turning his attention back to Erik, Faraj grinned. "I think that once I defeat you, I'll take her one last time before your very eyes." He swung hard with his blade, chagrinned as the nimble figure avoided it once more. A deft slash caught him on the leg in return, causing him to wince as it stung him sharply. With a low growl, he charged forward once more.

Erik felt the wall against his back and pushed against it, tumbling forward under the slashing blade of his foe. As he came to his feet, he thrust his sword behind him, feeling it penetrate Faraj's flesh once more. When he spun and faced Faraj once more, he noted that it was a deeper hit that he'd imagined.

Faraj held his side gingerly, staring down at the blood that stained his fingertips.

"Let her go!" Erik demanded, nodding at Alhena's struggling form on the floor at the far end of the room.

Shaking his head slightly, Faraj replied, "I think not. In fact, I think I may even reward her to Sebastien right now for a job well done."

Sebastien grinned and brought her to her feet. "I'm sure that her screams will distract him." He dragged her to the bed and flung her still dazed form down.

"Remember what I told you earlier, Faraj?" Erik hissed at him, afraid for his sister. "When I swore I'd be the one to send you the fiery pits of hell?"

"Of course," Faraj chuckled. "Although, I'm becoming less and less intimidated by the moment."

"Good." Erik's eyes were alight behind his mask. "I want those to be the last words you remember as I kill you."

Faraj smirked and gestured him forward with his free hand.

* * *

Christine felt conspicuous as she moved along the hallways, trying to guess the direction her husband had taken. Getting past the throngs of people earlier proved to be difficult, but eventually she had gotten through. The majority of the household had made their way out at this point, the surviving group of guests long since gone. Still, she played the role as if she were back on stage in the Opera Populaire. 

Walking as if she belonged in the house, she strode confidently down each hall. The sudden sound of growling made her pause in her tracks as she glanced down one corridor and saw one of the white tigers glaring at her hungrily. Her resolve fled as she flattened herself against the nearest wall, gasping in surprise as it collapsed behind her. Standing up quickly she slid the secret door shut. It quivered as the beast pawed against it. Risking everything, she looked around the room and her eyes fell upon a heavy wooden desk in the center. She waited till she felt the tiger push hard against the doorway once more and then bolted for the desk. Pushing with all her might, she managed to slide it against the door, wedging it in place.

Breathing hard, she looked around. The room was a mess. She wondered what had happened here only for a moment before she saw the open door at the far side of the room that would take her to safety. She ran down the hall and approached the main doors of the house. For a moment her survival instincts yelled at her to flee, but her love of Erik would not let her run. Guessing the direction he had gone earlier, she took a right at the intersection, soon arriving at the grand hall she'd seen earlier. Her options were limited. She could go back the way she came, go left to even more servant quarters, or go up the flight of stairs before her. A fire in the hall to the right was raging brightly, effectively removing that option from her. Crossing herself, she ascended the stairs and turned right.

The hallway was dark, and seemed to tunnel outward as she crept down it, afraid of what she'd discover at every turn. Her plan to find Raoul had left her, her senses being drawn strongly to continue down the corridor before her. _"Erik is somewhere up here, I know he is!"_

As she got farther along she began to hear the sound of metal on metal. A feeling inside of her told her she'd made the right decision and she rushed around the corner. The bodies of three guards lay along the hallway, momentarily frightening her, until she reminded herself that her husband might need her. Summoning her courage, she rushed to the last door along the hall.

Her rational mind froze, completely overwhelmed by the sight of both Erik and Alhena in serious trouble.

As Christine entered the room, Erik once more saw the intrusion and lowered his guard in shocked amazement. Faraj howled in triumph and swung his scimitar in a killing arc. At the last moment, Erik ducked low, but Faraj raised his knee up to meet the movement, sending the man staggering back. He struck a vicious backhanded blow, causing the mask itself to go flying as the man beneath fell to the floor.

"Erik!" Christine screamed, her face going pale as all of her fears came together at once.

The scream snapped Alhena back into perspective, immediately aware of her predicament. Sebastien was pressed against her, shoving her roughly down upon the bed yet again. Her mind reeled at the implications as she kicked out at the man's chest, giving her a brief moment of breathing room. One hand went behind her, grasping the hilt of the one dagger Sebastien had missed in his earlier groping. She sprung up and met him as he lunged at her once again.

As their bodies pressed against each other in the struggle, she managed to brace the blade between them as he sought to thrust her down upon the bed. The steel pierced his chest as he impaled himself upon the blade. A stunned look on his face, his grip slackened and she once more watched him fall down to the ground.

Remembering his earlier advice, she slid the dagger under his chin and pulled hard, cutting him deeply, ear to ear. "This time, I'm sure you're dead, you bastard!" She sneered in disgust at his still corpse.

Her eyes met Christine's and she followed the poor girl's horrified gaze to her brother, stumbling around as Faraj prepared the final killing blow. He raised his scimitar high above his head. With a scream of trapped rage, Alhena jumped upon his broad back, locking her arm around his neck and stabbing at him wildly.

Erik shook his head trying to clear it. Reaching out, he grabbed feebly at his fallen sword while Faraj bellowed above him. He looked up as he struggled to his knees and watched as the master of the house grabbed his sister by her hair, and pulled her over his broad back, flinging her against the wall with a wet thud. Although he bled from a number of deep wounds, the large man still managed a sinister smile, and moved against Erik once more.

"I see now why you wear the mask, my hideous friend. The devil himself has placed his mark upon you!" Faraj grimaced in revulsion, slashing his blade back and forth casually. As if on reflex, the man before him brought his free hand up to the ruined side of his face.

"Christine, run!" Erik gasped, not wanting her to see him like this. Raoul had told him earlier that she was outside, safe, yet here she was. Another twist to this endless saga, it seemed.

"You have feelings for this woman, _beast_?" Faraj asked curiously, thinking Christine was nothing more than one of the many whores in his service. "Could this be?" An eerie laugh came forth as he studied the man before him. "Why, yes…I see it now. You _love_ her!"

Without warning, Erik spit in Faraj's face, scowling at the man in pure unadulterated fury.

Faraj wiped at his face with the back of his hand and then loomed forward in a sinister growl. "I shall have even more pleasure in defiling her body in ways you cannot even begin to imagine." He lashed out with one heavy boot, catching Erik in the stomach and launching him backwards several feet. His head met the wall hard, knocking him out cold.

Faraj smiled victoriously as Erik lay crumpled against the far wall. He strode forward, raising his scimitar in both hands. Prepared to end the evening on his terms, he stood above Erik, the bright moonlight shining down upon them both from the skylight in the roof of the bedroom

Christine was unable to move, the prophetic nightmare she'd had several nights ago coming back to her in terrifying clarity...

* * *

**Author's Note**  
-cue ominous music and annoying announcer voice- Will she or won't she kill off Erik? Tune in next week to find out what happens to them all! I know, you all want to Punjab me for the cliffies, especially for this one. I'm sorry, but it had to be done. This was my homage chapter to the show "Lost." I'm a junkie and I'm really upset with Wednesday's cliffhanger and I won't find out what happens until February! -sighs- Alright, enough of my whining. There is a method to my madness. -points at Erik for working me hard- Shhh! Don't say it! -grins- 

So, who all here had forgotten about Jean? Or perhaps you all wondered where the heck he went. Hopefully I've answered those questions with this chapter. As for Sebastien, yes, he's now officially dead. -wink- I never really said for certain that he had died several chapters back, so I thought this would make for a good add in.

I hope you all enjoyed the action scenes. Jon had a fun time with this chapter, as you can see. -smiles-

I also want to wish Gerard Butler, Sir Royal Hawtness, Snog King Extraordinaire, and my personal Phantom/Erik, a Happy 37th Birthday! It's on Monday, the 13th, so you phans get out there and send him some love!

**Disclaimer**  
This probably isn't necessary, but I'm putting it here anyway. The battleship La Gloire, (Glory in English) was an actual ironclad ship for the French Navy, the first of it's kind, launched in 1859 and decommissioned in 1879. Naturally, I am not affiliated nor do I own any rights to this historic ship. It was scrapped in 1883, but there are print images and a scale model of it in the Musée de la Marine (Museum of the Navy), in Paris.


	34. Chapter 34

**CHAPTER 34**

The moon flickered and danced upon the steel blade of Faraj's great scimitar, held tight within his mighty grip. His breath was hard and heavy, his eyes crazed, as he prepared to kill Erik with one swift downward strike. With a final intake of air, he let out a furious battle cry as the gleaming blade arced to find its target.

It was over in mere seconds. The blade fell, slamming into the wood as it crashed down.

Faraj's hands immediately let go, however, and flew up behind him, clawing at his back.

Suddenly rousing and becoming aware of where she was again, Alhena lifted her head and stared in stunned amazement as Faraj turned away, seeing a single ornate dagger protruding from his massive back.

He locked eyes with his assassin for one moment, mouth opening and closing but no words coming out. Taken aback by the assault, he turned away from her, promptly falling atop Erik's prone form with a ground shaking thud. The beautiful knight's dagger, which had once belonged to Jeanne d'Arc, shone bright against the dark pool of blood which now surrounded it.

Behind him stood a horrified Christine, her hands covering her mouth at what she had done and the sight of the big man's weapon planted into the dark form beneath him. Too shocked to even cry, her eyes filled with despair. There Erik was, just as she'd seen him in her dream. Once just a terrible vision, it was now very much a cold hard reality. Her hand reached out on its own volition, forcing her to follow through with this fantastic tragedy.

Her legs took her only a few hesitant steps before collapsing beneath her, spilling her at the side of the man she loved. A stinging chill coursed through her body as her eyes fell upon his mask. It lay before her, lifeless and unforgiving. Would he reach out for her, waking her from this nightmare? Her hands trembled as she picked it up, a spark of hope in her heart.

Nothing happened.

She closed her eyes, the tears finally falling, dropping onto the simple white mask she held atop her lap so lovingly. "Oh, Erik… my Angel…" Her soft voice whispered solemnly into the silence of the room.

She wasn't sure how long she had wept before she felt the tender hand lying against her shoulder consolingly.

"I'm so sorry, sister." Alhena sat beside her, allowing her to grieve a few moments more before speaking again. "This is my fault," she said ashamed.

"The only one who is to blame for all of this is that bastard there!" Christine wiped at her eyes roughly, standing up and pacing the room bitterly.

"I should have done something sooner." Alhena stood up and walked over to Christine's side. "I should have never let it come to this."

"There was nothing you or I could have done differently. Our course of action was dictated by this godforsaken tyrant!" Christine pointed sharply at Faraj's still form, as it lay motionless in the moonlit room.

"That may be true, but I could have prevented this all. I could have listened to Nadir instead of turning him in that night he was in my room. I could have…" Her own tears and emotions caused her words to simply stop.

"Alhena, please!" Christine interrupted strongly, her pacing coming to a stop. "I just stood there!" Her voice quivered in regret.

"What are talking about?" You did all that you could. You've killed Faraj."

"And I've killed Erik! I stood there in that hall and did nothing! I was too late to make a difference and now my husband is dead because of me!" She wrung her hands in guilt and sorrow.

Alhena placed her arms around Christine as she began to succumb to grief again. "Don't you dare blame yourself for this."

Together they cried, mourning the loss of a man who loved them both enough to sacrifice his own life for theirs.

A low groan interrupted them. "If you two are quite finished, I could use some help getting this_ troll _off of me."

"Erik!" Both girls exclaimed in unison as they scrambled on either side of him.

"But…I thought…" Christine's tears flowed with joy as she gripped Erik's hand in hers, the other still clinging to his mask.

"How is this possible, brother?" Alhena grunted, heaving with all her strength as she rolled Faraj's body off to the side.

"My wife's timing was impeccable. Her attack must have made him alter his swing." Erik winced as he drew in a sharp breath, "Perhaps not as much as I might have wished for, but it was enough to save my life." His pained eyes looked down at Faraj's blade.

The scimitar did meet its mark, but not enough to be fatal. It had cut him deeply, but the brunt of the blade had struck wood, not flesh. The rest of it had cut painfully into the skin of his left side, causing a steady trickle of blood around the steel, deep enough to keep him firmly wedged in place. With the positioning of his arm and cape, and being covered beneath Faraj's large frame, it had appeared to Christine and Alhena that the master of the house had indeed succeeded in killing Erik before he himself fell.

"You're going to have to stand above me and pull it out in one quick motion, Alhena," Erik instructed, facing away from her to hide the distorted side of his face. "Christine, my mask," he continued, staring at her left hand.

Christine helped Erik with his mask and once it was securely in place, Alhena did as she was told and stood above him, both hands grasping the leather bound hilt of the scimitar.

"Are you ready, brother?" She asked grimly.

Erik took a few deep breaths, preparing his mind and body for the pain, and then nodded once for her to begin.

Christine squeezed his hand as she watched Alhena pulled the scimitar free in one clean pull. Erik hissed between gritted teeth as he was freed from the massive blade.

"Oh, Erik!" Christine moved closer, clinging herself to him.

"I'm alright, mon ange. I'm alright," he cooed into her ear, his hands running through her hair tenderly as she openly wept.

"I… don't know… what I would have done… without you!" Christine sobbed between breaths.

"I said I wouldn't leave you, Christine. I promised."

Alhena strode to the open door, to both give them privacy and keep watch for any more guards. The house was silent, but the air grew heavy with heat from the floor below. She gazed at the couple wistfully before deciding it was time to interrupt them. "We need to go. The fire grows downstairs, brother."

"Is everyone else safe?" Erik asked in sudden concern, remembering his other companions.

Alhena nodded, smiling slightly as she saw the sincere gratitude in his expression.

A light mist of smoke swirled in the air around them. "It's finally time to go home, mon amore." Firmly, he pressed the cloth of his cape against the open wound at his side. Both girls helped him to his feet, and he stooped to retrieve his sword. Though seriously injured, he was able to walk on his own without fail.

"Is there a faster way out of here?" Erik asked Alhena.

"We could go over the railing, but I don't know that we have time to fetch a rope, or if you're able to climb down one regardless."

He considered his Punjab lasso. "I have a rope, but you may be right about my ability to manage the descent," he grudgingly acknowledged.

"Then let us simply go out the front door," Alhena replied.

"But what if the main doors are blocked off by guards?" Christine wondered nervously.

The raven-haired beauty chuckled. "The Comte _disposed _of those guards earlier."

Erik nodded. "Then we go out the front."

Christine's face paled with worry.

"The fire is blocking any other options left to us, mon ange. We have no other choice at this point." Erik held his hand out to her. "It will be alright, Christine. I will keep you safe."

Christine placed her hand into his gloved one carefully, hoping the need for him to act on her behalf would not present itself. His condition was fragile enough already for such recourses.

Together they left the room, comforted by each others presence, yet wary for any more dangers they might encounter. Erik had his sword, and Alhena had retrieved the weapons Sebastien had taken, but Christine couldn't bear the thought of pulling her dagger out of the dead man's body.

They followed the corridor and ended up back at the grand hall. They could see the orange glow of many fires along the side hallways and the smoke got thicker and more irritating with every step. Fortunately, the high ceiling was drawing it up, making it easier to breathe with each stair they descended.

Reaching the ground floor, they went straight, the quickest way to the front doors. As they turned the corner and saw the long empty hall leading to freedom, their hearts soared in relief. A feral snarl from nearby raised the hair on their necks however, spurring them onward.

"I'd wondered where that last tiger had gotten off to, "Erik smirked.

Christine remembered her earlier encounter with the great cat and squeezed his hand tightly, pulling him in the direction of the heavy doors.

As he ushered the two ladies outside, Erik turned back once more and saw the beast far along the hallway they'd just traveled, seemingly making its way toward the staircase they'd come from earlier. He shrugged and backed out of the house, pulling the door shut behind him.

The two women still stood on the front steps, unmoving.

Erik scowled in defiance as awaiting them outside was another sight they hadn't expected. He locked eyes with one of Faraj's henchmen. The man stood a few feet beyond the main doors, two guards on either side of him, and a line of men standing behind him, holding their weapons ready.

"Well done!" Jean clapped at their appearance. "I must say, my men and I had thought the worst had happened in there."

"You two get behind me," Erik ordered his wife and sister, pulling his sword with his right hand and pushing past them.

Jean backed up a step. "Monsieur," he raised his hands in an innocent gesture, "you have the wrong idea."

"Do I? I think not," Erik sneered, fighting the dread in the pit of his stomach. There were too many.

"Erik, you're in no condition to fight," Alhena protested.

"Listen to her, mon ami," Jean replied. "There need be no further bloodshed this night, unless you wish to_ test _my good graces?"

"Say what you will before I cut your tongue out!" Erik eyed Jean threateningly.

Shaking his head in disapproval, Jean raised a finger cautiously, "Temper…there's no need for such violence. You would die, before you ever got to lay a hand on me."

"Is that a _challenge_?" Erik took a step forward, his head still woozy, and his legs beginning to feel unsteady.

"Erik, don't!" Christine begged him, attempting to pull him back. She looked over at Jean's smug face. "What do you want from us?" She asked him, tears in her eyes.

"What do I want?" Jean began to laugh incredulously. "What do I want? Chéri, I already _have_ what I want, thanks to you all! I am in charge of _everything_ now!"

"Stop this cryptic nonsense and tell us what you mean, you jackal!" Alhena demanded.

Looking her over, Jean continued. "While Faraj and Sebastien were in charge, I was delegated to the role of some two-bit lackey. My pride," he adjusted his cross tie deliberately, "could never allow that for long."

"So you waited until they were killed. You're the master of a house in flames, and leader of a ruined business. Congratulations," Erik replied with a sarcastic smile.

"Well, you're partly correct, Monsieur. The house is indeed a shambles," Jean conceded. "As far as the business?" He reached into a satchel at his side and produced a thick bundle of papers. "I took the liberty of retrieving all the necessary documents of ownership from my former _master_." He spat the last word in disgust.

Erik hid his surprise well as he recognized the topmost document Jean held in his hand proudly. It was the promissory note Raoul had given to Faraj to pass as his own private account, though it was truly just one of the many that belonged to the Shah of Persia.

Seeing the confusion on their faces, Jean elaborated with a sinister smile. "The house will be rebuilt and a new era, a smarter era, of our much beloved slave trade, will flourish under my command." He brandished the sheaf of papers grandly.

"You're an animal, just like Faraj!" Alhena yelled and pulled a dagger free.

Erik swiftly moved to restrain her before any of the men in front of them could react to her threat of attack. "There's no need for that, Alhena," he whispered into her ear. "He will get what is coming to him, I promise!"

"Let me go, Erik! You don't know what these so-called men are capable of doing to the young and innocent!" She trembled in rage within his arms.

His piercing green eyes met hers hypnotically. "Trust in me. I would not let this man breath a second longer, if I was not certain of his fate. He will not live long enough to enjoy his newfound power."

"I have no quarrel with any of you. If you wish to leave, you may do so right now." Jean motioned for his men to step aside from the path that led to the stables. "Take whatever transport you'll need, with my overwhelming gratitude for a job well done." The new master's smile gleamed brightly in the night.

They hesitated to accept his graciousness, staring at him in mute suspicion. "You have my word as a gentleman." He bowed as they warily moved past the guards and made their way to the stables.

Jean watched from afar as they emerged from the low building a few minutes later, Alhena astride one horse and her brother and the other woman on another. He gave them a mocking salute as they rode off, his men laughing around him.

"Master, are you sure it was wise to let them go?" The guard at Jean's side asked as he watched the three gallop off in the distance. "What if they come back?"

Jean held tight to the documents in his grasp, turning to face his guard. "If they do, you and the men will simply handle it for me, won't you?" He eyed him sternly.

"Yes, my lord." The guard bowed respectfully.

As the dawning of a new day approached in the east, Jean was certain it would mark the beginnings of a long and glorious reign.

* * *

It was dark, and it was hot. Those were the first two things Faraj noticed as he awoke, his face covered in sweat. His head throbbed where he had cracked it against the floor when he had fallen over his enemy in black. He dimly remembered a pain erupting in his back as he killed his adversary. Turning his head, he intended to look upon his enemy a final time before getting up. 

There was no body.

Alhena and her brother were gone, as well as the woman that had stabbed him. He could make out the still form of Sebastien near the bed, but otherwise he was alone. He turned his head the other way, seeing his scimitar lying on the floor a few feet away. There was a lot of blood, both on the blade and around it. _"Perhaps I've killed him after all."_ He was determined to find out what became of the body. _"But if he's alive, roaming about these halls injured, my face will be the last thing he sees as I put him out of his misery!"_ He reached out for his scimitar, his mind screaming as his limbs betrayed him.

He could not move.

He tried again, focusing on the muscles in his arm to respond to his call.

They would not.

Unbeknownst to him, Christine's blade, although not killing him, had lodged into his spine, his fall causing it to plunge even deeper, severing the cord within completely. Nerve impulses could not reach his limbs and he was paralyzed from the neck down.

Still, the big man struggled, grunting with effort. He couldn't feel anything aside from the ache in his skull. No pain in his feet, no tingle in his fingertips. The sudden realization that he was helpless brought forth a panic deep within him that he'd never known.

"Guards!" He called out weakly. Coughing, he tried again, a little louder.

Still no one came.

Summoning his strength, he yelled at the top of his smoke ravaged lungs. "Guards!" He closed his eyes and let his head fall limply to the ground, gasping for air and sliding into unconsciousness once more.

He did not know how long it was before a new noise had captured his attention. His eyes snapped back open as he heard the growling. One of his tigers had entered the room, white fur matted with both blood and soot. It looked about the room, sniffing around Sebastien's corpse a moment before its amber eyes settled on Faraj.

"No! Get back!" He ordered it, frantically trying to get his traitorous hands and legs beneath him.

They did not move.

The tiger advanced carefully, hunger apparent on its face.

Faraj's angered yells quickly turned to cries of fear as the beast hovered over him.

The master of the house could not see the animal licking at the blood on his back. Or feel the sharp teeth tear into his flesh, as it started to feed.

* * *

**Author's Note**  
Yes, Faraj is dead, finally! My boyfriend had much fun killing him off. Was that fitting enough for Faraj, you think? -hears Erik laughing triumphantly in the background- There will be a celebration! Refreshments and Phantom Cookies are now being served in the grand salon of Erik's estate (or another sort of celebration beneath his cape…I won't go into details. You're all smart enough to figure it out). Hehe, enjoy! 

You all didn't think I'd kill off Erik, did you? For shame! I love that man as much as everyone else does. -wink- I know this isn't as long as my usual entries, but I thought it would be best to focus on this event solely. Hopefully it was not disappointing. See you all next week! -hugs-

**Disclaimer**  
I am not affiliated, nor do I own the rights to Jeanne d'Arc.


	35. Chapter 35

**CHAPTER 35**

With the bath house far behind them, Erik, Christine, and Alhena veered off toward the direction of the dry riverbed to be reunited with their party. _"It's finally over," _Christine thought, as she relished in the comfort of being within her husband's arms. She could feel his touch as he brushed his thumb against her stomach while they rode, bringing a smile to her face. She couldn't wait to be back home, concentrating on nothing more than spending lazy days with Erik and her future child.

"Are you sure that rat will be taken care of, brother?" Alhena asked as they rode side by side. She had been lost in quiet contemplation since they'd left the house.

Eyes staring off into the distance, he replied. "Without question. You need not worry about your safety any longer, sister. Once we return to Taddert, you and our mother will be able to live a life of peace."

Returning to Morocco was a subject that Alhena had given very little thought to. She would return to the Sultan's palace, a promise she had made to his daughter long ago. To see her mother after so many years however, "_years of servitude to countless men,_" she sighed inwardly. It was something she could not bring herself to face.

"Alhena? Is something wrong?" Erik asked curiously, turning toward her and noting her suddenly saddened expression.

"I'm fine." Alhena clucked her tongue and flicked the reins in her hands, urging her horse ahead.

The three approached their companions as the first rays of sunlight bore through the hazy skies in the east. Raoul was preparing the horses and looked up as they arrived, obviously relieved at their safe return. Off to the side, Meg knelt diligently by Guifford's prone form. Nadir sat alone a few feet behind them, poking at a small fire with a long stick.

"Thank God! I was just about to head back after you all," Raoul called out to them as they slowed their horses.

"How are they, Comte?" Erik asked as Raoul helped Christine down.

"Monsieur Khan is weary, but fine. Though, I can't say the same for Monsieur Marceau." His tone was grave as he lowered his voice just above a whisper. "We've kept his wound clean, but he's lost a lot blood."

Erik eased himself off of his mount and walked over to where Guifford lay, relieving Meg of her duties. He knelt before the big man, immediately worried about his pale and drawn appearance. "He won't make the ride back into town like this."

"I feared as much." Raoul lowered his head in remorse, once again regretting his rash action in the bath house.

Erik unfastened his cape. "Take this." He tossed it over to Raoul. "Tear it into as many long strips as you can. It should be enough binding for the three of us." He removed the blood-soaked cloth at Guifford's side and inspected the damage. "Find whatever clean clothing you can and wad it into bandages. I know the army must have taught you the importance of keeping wounds clean."

"It's the navy actually..." Raoul began but stopped as soon as he realized Erik wasn't listening to him.

"Whatever. I'm just glad you were paying attention. Now get to work."

Nadir inched his battered body forward. "What do you plan on doing, old boy?"

"I need to remove the bullet." He replied simply, removing his gloves in the process. "It'll be a bit crude at best, but it should do until we reach the hospital."

"I know you've read countless volumes of medical journals, purely out of boredom, but this is hardly the case to start practicing that knowledge. You've never performed such a procedure, Erik. You're _not_ a doctor."

"You and I will make it as long as we change our dressings before we go, but if I do not tend to this man immediately, he will die, Daroga." Erik snarled in frustration at the truth of his friends words. He looked over at Meg and asked. "S'il vous plaît, Madame, I need your help. If this does not in fact kill him outright, it will still most definitely hurt. At the very least, hold his hand once more."

Watching his wife move to the opposite side of Guifford, Raoul nodded his agreement with Erik's words. "If it will help his chances for survival, then do whatever it is you can. I'll be ready with this," he held up Erik's cape, "when you need it." Turning to Christine, he asked for her to join him.

She looked at her husband, desire to help evident.

Erik smiled at her, conveying all his love in that single act. "Go with him, mon ange. It's alright."

She nodded and followed Raoul over by the fire, the two of them pulling long pieces from the tattered cloak.

Alhena had been quietly observing the rest of them. She summoned her voice finally and said, "If you have no need for me, brother, I need to retrieve my belongings which hang from the balcony of my room."

"Very well, but be quick," Erik replied, unable to tear his attention away from Guifford's wound. His breathing was shallow as Erik probed about his abdomen, seeking the possible location of the bullet before actually digging inside the man.

Alhena rushed off on horseback, catching Raoul and Christine's gaze for a brief moment before they continued with the task Erik had given them. They both had concerns about her return to the house, but neither voiced them.

"Raoul?" Christine asked moments later, suddenly remembering something.

"Yes, Christine?" He answered as he stood up and took off his jacket.

"What are you doing?" She looked at him, puzzled.

He stripped off his shirt and sat back down, donning his outer jacket once more. "We need clean cloth for Monsieur Marceau. All of us are either bloody or covered in soot. That is, except for me." He held up his shirt for inspection. "If your husband needs bandages, he shall have them."

"Oh." She conceded the point and tore another section lengthwise from Erik's cloak.

"That wasn't what you were going to ask me about, was it?" Raoul grabbed a hold of one of his shirt sleeves, and pulled it free from the seams at the shoulder.

"Actually, it's about that knight's dagger you gave me." She paused, trying to find the words to explain what had happened. She couldn't bear to tell him she hadn't had the nerve to retrieve it from Faraj's back.

"What about it?" He asked, concentrating on the size of the compresses he needed to make.

"I…I don't have it," she finally managed to say.

Raoul stopped and looked at her directly. "Did someone take it from you?"

She shook her head. "No."

"Then what happened?" He asked softly.

Tears began to sting her eyes as she began to recall what had happened. "Faraj was about to kill Erik! I… I had to… I…"

"Oh, Lotte..." He placed the cloth on the ground and took hold of her hands. "Listen to me now. You don't have to explain to me why you used it, as long as it served you well." He pulled her close and embraced her. "You are safe, are you not?"

"Oui, mon ami," she nodded against his bare chest, and cried softly.

"You should know by now that I would give all that I own, if only to protect you." He held her close, brushing his fingers through her tangled curls.

Erik watched the display from afar. Instinct told him he should be saying something, but he allowed it to continue. In the end, his better judgment swayed the decision. He knew Christine felt guilt for her actions, as justified as they were. Perhaps the boy could give her the closure he could not.

With Nadir looking over his shoulder, Erik made an incision over the entry wound. Meg aided him, occasionally clearing the blood from the wound with a canteen of water. He was proud of the little blond ballerina's strength of character. Despite her terror, she did not shy away from the task before them, but sat shoulder to shoulder with the phantom as he worked. Her patience and ability to function in this time of need reminded him of her own mother, Madame Giry.

Using the fingers of his left hand, Erik spread the opening wide enough for him to do his work. With his right, he carefully slipped two fingers inside of the wound and probed for the bullet. In moments he felt his fingertips brush against the smooth metal. He took a long deep breath as he positioned his index and middle finger around the bullet, and with a grunt, he pulled it free. There was very little resistance where Guifford was concerned. He had remained in his dormant state throughout the procedure.

Erik rinsed his hands, relieved he was able to recover the bullet successfully. "Bring the bandages if you please, Comte," he called the young man forth. As Raoul approached, he continued. "I'm going to need something to transport this man in. Will you see to him and the Daroga for a few minutes?"

"Of course, but where are you going?"

"Back to the bath house. I will retrieve a carriage to transport this man back to town."_ "And I need to find out what is taking my sister so long. If she is being held by Jean and his men, I will destroy them all."_

It made sense. Nodding, Raoul pressed one of the bandages against Guifford's wound as Erik moved away toward the horses. He looked over at Christine as she met his eyes, staring at him pleadingly. He turned away, swinging himself astride Atreus in a flash. He dug his heels into the Arabian's side and sped off toward The Jeweled Moon.

* * *

Alhena had gathered her satchel, taking a moment to make sure all her things were intact. She knew they would be, yet she found herself making excuses to pass the time, to distance herself from the others. She was pleased that there were no other people around the house. Presumably they had all left toward parts unknown, leaving the house to burn merrily. As she secured her bag around her, she looked up one last time at the balcony she had spent many years standing at. There was not a single night that passed, no matter what she'd done during the day, that she was not upon that balcony, stargazing. All the while in the back of her mind, she had held hope for something more, a new beginning, and now she finally had just that.

She decided she would take the time she had, to move on without the others. _"It's the right thing to do,"_ she thought, not wanting to burden her mother with the shame of the life her daughter had been forced into. _"She wouldn't understand. She would never look at me the same way she did before."_

"The dry riverbed is behind me." A voice interrupted her from behind.

Startled, she turned around to find her brother. She hadn't heard his approach, being so caught up in her self-pity.

"Where were you going?" Erik continued, coming up beside her.

"This is where we part ways, brother. I won't be going back with you," she declared firmly.

His fingers tapped at his chin. "I find it hard to believe this was something you suddenly decided upon."

She looked away, unable to meet his eyes. "You're right. I had thought long and hard about this."

"And I suppose there's nothing I can say or do to make you change your mind?"

"No, there's not." Her voice quivered.

"Allow me one question then before you leave." Erik slid off his horse and stood next to her.

"Very well," she answered hesitantly.

"Do you not care about our mother's happiness?"

Her eyes lit up in defiance. "How can you say that? Of course I care!"

Erik put his hands on her shoulders gently. "Then why are you doing this?"

"That's two questions, brother, and I have no time to argue a moot point with you."

He could tell she was resisting the urge to lash out at him. "You say you care for our mother and yet you choose to disappoint her further. She's been through a great deal since you were taken from her."

"I'm not that same little girl she knew from long ago. I've changed." She shuddered at a thousand unwanted memories washing over her. "More importantly, I've _been _changed. There's nothing I can do about that now."

"Is that what worries you?" He pulled her close. "Are you afraid she will not be able to see past the things you had no control over?"

"You don't understand." She shoved him away roughly.

"Then explain yourself to me, Alhena, because what I do understand right now is that you're willing to turn your back on a lot of people that risked their lives for you, in order to return you to a mother whose heart _bleeds _to be reunited with you."

"I don't want her to look at me in shame for the things I've done. I can't bear it. If she rejects me…" she shuddered in a breath and looked away from him.

Erik knew all too well of the torment she was going through, the conflicted feelings that riddled her mind in doubt. He too had once felt the exact same way she did now, afraid his mother would not be able to see beyond the mask.

"There's something I must show you." He approached her steadily. "I did not necessarily live the life I do now. I spent most of it in hiding, shunned by society and forced to live in solitude." He lowered his head, his hands coming up to remove his mask. "I've done many things I am less than proud of, all because I was given _this _by the woman I believe to be our mother." He placed the mask it into her hands and rose slowly to meet her face.

Seeing his partially ruined visage for the first time, Alhena's eyes welled with tears. The horror of his face did not frighten her, nor did she wish to pity him, but rather protect him from a world that would do him harm. She now understood his affliction, but she realized that she accepted him just the same. He was her brother, of her blood, and nothing would ever change that.

"You look upon me now as our mother did, and like her, you accept me for who I am. She too is a remarkable and loving woman. You knew this was so in your youth, and if you search your heart you will know it to be true still."

She held her hand up to the ruined side of his face, the tears falling now uncontrollably.

"If her love and acceptance of my disfigurement does not prove to you that she will accept you for all that you are, then I will gladly step aside and allow you to go," he said softly, closing his eyes as she continued to caress his face tenderly.

"Take me home, Erik." She responded after a time, placing his mask back into his hands. "Take me home."

* * *

Recovering from their post-operative procedures, Erik, Nadir, and Guifford remained in Dr. Bakari's care for a week. He was the very same doctor who attended to Christine after her fainting spell at the marketplace. Raoul had used the time to find them transport across the desert and to write his estate to update them on their whereabouts.

Before they had left Bornu, Erik made sure to have Christine examined a final time before they traveled across the Sahara. Dr. Bakari had cleared her for the journey, but cautioned that they travel at night and seek shelter during the days to prevent any unnecessary strain on her and the baby.

It had taken them several weeks to get across the Sahara and back into Morocco. They were now at the base of the mountainside in Taddert, staring up at the secluded home belonging to Erik and Alhena's mother, Amala.

"I'll take Meg and Guifford with me to find lodging in Marrakech while you visit with your mother," Raoul suggested, not wanting to intrude on what he knew would be an emotional family reunion.

"Nonsense. There is enough room for all of us. Don't let the home's appearance fool you," Erik replied, staring up the hill pensively.

Raoul glanced at Meg, who merely shrugged unknowingly. "Well, if you're certain we won't be too much trouble."

"It shall only be for the night. Tomorrow we'll make arrangements to continue on toward France," Erik assured him.

"Very well, then. My thanks for your hospitality," Raoul bowed in his saddle.

Meg and Guifford thanked Erik as well as they dismounted their horses and secured them.

Together they trekked up the path toward the house.

Darius and Valente were sitting out front when they arrived. Darius approached his master and inquired on their trip, while Valente met Erik with a firm handshake, and was in turn introduced to his sister Alhena.

"It appears you've achieved what no other was able to, mio amico. Though, I had every confidence in your success." Valente smiled.

"How is my mother?" Erik asked tentatively.

Valente turned to Darius before answering. "Darius? Be a good host and offer our friends some tea." Not wanting to upset his longtime friend, he simply ushered Erik and his sister inside, leaving the others behind. He and Darius had come to know Amala better over the course of their stay, each marveling at the woman's unique strength. They knew a lesser woman would have long since passed by now. It had become clear to Valente that this very nature was inherent in her son. "She's in her room, resting."

Erik sensed something was amiss. "Valente? What has happened?"

"Shortly after you left, we had unwelcome visitors. Some men were looking for documents they thought might reside in the lady's estate. The matter was handled," he paused before continuing. "Though sadly, not without incident."

"Valente…" Erik raised his tone in warning.

"Signore Khadim and his servant Omar are dead."

"And my mother?" Alhena asked excitedly. "Was she harmed?"

"No. Darius and I have kept her safe."

"Mere words cannot convey the depths of my thanks for your service in this, though it saddens me to hear at what costs her safety was maintained."

"Their deaths were not in vain, Erik. Take comfort in knowing that they had served your mother well." Valente lowered his head and crossed himself.

Erik nodded thoughtfully at Valente's admission. "My sister and I will visit our mother alone, mon ami. See to it that our companions have adequate quarters for the night."

"Sì," he bowed. "It will be done."

"And Valente?" Erik asked, watching as he turned around.

"My wife is with child. Provide her with anything she needs." Erik tossed his pocketbook in the air and Valente caught it readily.

Erik and Alhena walked the corridor in silence, stopping before Amala's bedroom door.

"Are you ready?" He asked her.

She intertwined her arm with his and nodded. "Yes, I am."

The room was just as he remembered it, a treasure trove of antiques and artwork, and his mother lying quietly in her wrought iron bed.

Alhena smiled. Her memory had not failed her over the years. She recognized all the artifacts and comforts her mother had. As she scanned the room, she felt as if she had gone back to her youth, the only thing disrupting that vision of yesteryear was the appearance of her mother. She was still beautiful, but older now, long flowing grey hair and a face that had been through too much pain and worry.

Erik pulled his sister in the direction of the bed, seating her in the wooden chair beside it. He himself sat upon the bed and took his mother's hand within his own, caressing it lovingly, until her eyes fluttered open from her deep slumber.

"Erik? Is that really you, my son?"

"Oui." He replied, not sure of his voice.

"I asked God everyday to keep you safe… I was so worried… I was…"

"It's alright now," he spoke soothingly, attempting to calm her nerves. "I have returned, as promised." He leant forward and kissed her cheek, not knowing why he felt compelled to do so, but he was pleased she hadn't refused him, as Madeleine had many times over. Never did she allow for such affection to take place between them. He cleared his thoughts, staring fondly into his true mother's eyes, and then glanced over at Alhena.

Amala's tired eyes followed his gaze curiously. Her free hand moved to her mouth shakily, in disbelief. "God in heaven."

"She's home now as it should be." He smiled down at her.

"Alhena..." Amala reached out to her, almost unable to believe her own eyes.

Alhena knelt beside the bed as if praying, clutching her mother's hand and kissing it. "Forgive me, mother," she whispered over and over again.

"There is nothing to forgive, child," she cooed. "It is I that must beg for your forgiveness for not finding you sooner. If it was not for your brother, this day I have longed for would have never been."

"Talk of forgiveness is unnecessary," Erik interrupted. "No one in this room is to blame for all that has transpired. We should look beyond all of the hurt now, and look ahead to better days."

Amala smiled and nodded, holding the hands of her twin children. "I love you both very much and I'm so proud." She pulled their hands together, bound tightly within her own. "Erik, you are a handsome man, strong, and gifted. And Alhena, you have grown into a beautiful woman, with an inner spirit as strong as my own." She took a few deep breaths, coughing slightly.

"Mother?" Erik uttered the word aloud for the very first time, the sudden unsettling feeling of detachment weighing heavy upon him.

"I love you, mother…I always have…" Alhena sobbed.

"You've both saved this old woman's soul."

"Mother, I…I…" Erik succumbed to tears, his emotions he had denied himself finally coming to the surface. "I love you…" he whispered solemnly.

"I can die in peace now, knowing you've found one another." Amala closed her eyes, a blissful smile upon her face. With her final breath, she spoke softly. "I will take your love with me to share with your father in the afterlife…"

"Mother? Mother, no!" Alhena pleaded hopelessly, as she felt her mother's grip on hers loosen.

Amala was gone, and though her two children had only had a brief moment with her, the love she had given them both would last a lifetime.

"May angels guide you safely into God's kingdom," Erik intoned brokenly, falling to the floor beside his sister.

Together they wept; each drawing strength and comfort from one another.

* * *

**Author's Note**  
I hope everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving (for those that celebrate the holiday, that is). I was so eager to get Faraj's death done that I had forgotten that this update was going to be delayed because of Thanksgiving. My apologies for not warning everyone sooner. This was actually ready to post on Sunday, but I've been having problems again with the docs manager. -sighs- There are exactly five more chapters left! I outlined each one over the weekend to be certain. And just to remind everyone, there will be a small surprise for my readers at the end of this sequel, so hang in there with me. 


	36. Chapter 36

**M Rated Chapter**  
E/C fluff is finally here, so consider yourselves warned. Turn back now if you're offended by intimacy… Who am I kidding? You all are going to be reading regardless, aren't you? -looks around the room to see if anyone is getting up and leaving-

**CHAPTER 36**

It was well into the night when Christine decided to check in with her husband. Alhena had formally announced her mother's passing earlier to the rest of the group and was now sitting in the garden. Her head rested peacefully on Nadir's shoulder as he consoled her, stroking her raven locks softly.

Erik sat quietly in the chair beside Amala's bed, staring poignantly at her in the soft golden hue of the dimmed lamplight. Her last words circled through his mind. "_I can die in peace now, knowing you've found one another."_ His sister was no doubt taking the passing even more painfully than he was, having spent her childhood wrapped within her mother's love. Yet no one could understand his own pain and emptiness. The tortured life he always privately believed he was born into was just a lie created by a madwoman. The trials he endured growing up, the many mistakes and their consequences that he'd created needlessly, all could have been avoided if he'd had the fortune to know his real mother from the start.

Erik sighed, lowering his head in regret. It had been his sincerest wish once he had found his sister, to return and spend more time with this strange, yet wondrous woman. He had hoped to learn from her, and show her the talents and skills she'd given him, wondering what her laughter might have sounded like after so many years of sorrow. _"But we do not always get what we want."_ He knew this, but it was still hard for him to accept that fact. It was usually easy for him to get what he wanted, either with money or by power of suggestion. But death…death was something he could neither prevent nor predict. As he dwelt on these truths, a tender hand lay upon his shoulder, stirring him from his musings. He looked up at Christine, her pure, angelic face staring down at his. He felt the love he held for her quickly tempering the grief within his soul.

"Erik? Can I get you anything?"

Shaking his head briefly, he brought one hand up to wipe at his eyes. "What time is it?"

"It's late… a quarter to midnight."

"You should be in bed. Didn't Valente…" His voice held a trace of concern.

She smiled softly, interrupting him. "Everything is fine, mon amour."

"Then, what is the matter?"

"I know I have no right to ask this, especially now." Her eyes rested upon Amala's restful form. "I'm so sorry, Erik…for your loss…" She wished she could say something more, but all she felt were hot tears beginning to surface. She hadn't been able to deal with her own father's passing, crying countless times during the days that followed his death. Months turned into years and nothing had taken away that pain of loss. That is, until Erik came into her life. They lifted each others spirits and enriched each others lives in ways that were indescribable. Ever since that day, all of his emotions had been shared with her. Unfortunately in this fateful moment, his all-encompassing sadness was hers as well.

"Mon ange, tell me what it is you wish to ask." He encouraged her to continue.

She half turned nervously, feeling like she was intruding upon his solitude. "I…I was just wondering…would you to come to bed with me."

"Christine…" he was puzzled by her request.

"It's just that we've been traveling for so many weeks across the desert and never once had we the comforts of an actual bed. I would just like to have one night with you, before we are off again."

Erik furrowed his brow in displeasure. He couldn't believe she would request such a thing from him._ "To share physical intimacy now, under my mother's roof as she lay in wake, would be an abomination! How could she even dare to ask this of me?"_ Granted, he recalled, they had not been able to make love whilst in the company of their peers. In fact, he hadn't been intimate with her since he had brought her from the hospital, shortly after finding out she was in Bornu with Raoul. _"That was quite some time ago,"_ he suddenly realized in dismay. He was genuinely surprised at how much time had passed since their last coupling. He simply hadn't had the time to even think on it, having so many other concerns to occupy him.

"Erik?" Christine spoke up, seeing her husband lost in thought.

He reached forth, taking her hands in his. He kissed each upturned palm firmly. "I apologize for overlooking my duties to you, as a husband. I should be more sensitive to your needs."

Christine cocked her head to the side and then thought about what he was saying to her. She blushed. "Oh, dear…no, no, no," she waved her hands at his presumptions, giggling despite herself. "I should have made myself clearer. I just wished for you to join me in bed to _sleep_."

His faint smile echoed hers. "I don't think I'll be able to get any sleep tonight, beloved. Go on without me."

"It's been a trying day for everyone, Erik." She squeezed his hands and began to slowly pull him toward the doorway. "Come to bed with me and we will take care of this in the morning…together."

The soft brown of her eyes soothed him, as it always did. He would follow her to the ends of the earth. Following her to their room was not so very difficult at all.

* * *

They had decided on taking Amala's remains back to France and scattering her ashes at their father's grave in Père Lachaise. There was no Will, with which they could reference her final requests, thus leaving the decision for her children to make. 

While Erik and Alhena attended to the preparation of their mother's body, the rest of the group gathered Amala's belongings, packing them neatly into wooden crates. They would be shipped separately, with instructions to be delivered to La Maison de Roses. The deed to the house itself, Erik carefully concealed, knowing both he and his sister would never feel the urge to return.

The day of their departure was upon them now and there was one thing left for Erik to take care of in order to say farewell to this part of the world. They all had questioned his insistence on a side trip, wondering what could be so pressing as to prevent him from traveling with them to Tangier. Nadir alone, knew what it had been about, declaring he would accompany him to the Souss Valley. While Christine was not thrilled at Erik's decision, Nadir's inclusion did ease the fears of her husband traveling alone.

As the two men made ready to depart, Alhena spoke up. "I, too, shall meet you all at the port in Tangier. I have a promise to keep with the Sultan," she reminded them.

"Monsieur Marceau?" Erik addressed Guifford. The two men had spoken little in their time together. Partly due to Erik's mistrust of people he didn't know, as well as Guifford's own fear of this masked man who had turned the world he knew upside down. "I know you are not under my employ, but if I could ask that you escort my sister, I would be most grateful to you."

Guifford glanced over at Raoul, who simply nodded in approval. The Comte had faith in the big man, and felt beholden to him for helping keep his wife safe.

"I am capable of taking care of myself, brother." Alhena glared at Erik archly.

"Naturally, but this is not up for debate."

"Don't you even _begin_ to think you can dismiss me so easily."

"We can discuss this at length later, but for now, please just humor me."

Alhena held her retort, seeing the worry on her brother's face. It had been a stressful time for both of them. Her own experiences with Guifford were such, that she knew he could be trusted. In truth, having a large and formidable escort might not be a bad idea after all.

Guifford bowed clumsily in Erik's direction. "I'll keep her safe sir. You have my word. Indeed, I'm most indebted to you for saving my life."

In an uncharacteristic act on his part, Erik walked up to the man and took his hand. "I am equally indebted to you. And as long as I draw breath, I will remember your efforts on behalf of my wife and my sister."

Flushing awkwardly, Guifford nodded his head, making his way over to Alhena's side. The two of them mounted their horses and rode off, waving goodbye as they went.

They parted their separate ways at the base of the mountain, each taking a final glance up at the solitary home as they rode off. Raoul, Meg, Christine, Valente, and Darius were all bound for Tangier, while Alhena and Guifford journeyed toward the Sultan's palace. Erik and Nadir, on the other hand, would not have to travel far to reach their destination.

* * *

The ride toward the Berber family farm had been made in relative silence, no small feat for Nadir to accomplish normally, but he sincerely admired Erik for what he was preparing to do, _"For even acknowledging it, for that matter,"_ the Persian smiled. He had never known Erik to be forthcoming when it involved admitting his deceptions to the person or people he had outfoxed. 

With the others far behind them now, Erik and Nadir looked ahead toward the rough-hewn home belonging to Tajmar Zahid, the strange old man who had given them the Arabians they now rode upon. He was herding his livestock as they arrived, clapping a stick against his leg as the sound caused the beasts to move in the direction he wanted. He looked up at the approaching figures, pulling a handkerchief from a front pocket and wiping at the perspiration on his brow.

"Monsieur Zahid?" Erik called out. "Allow me a word, if you please."

The old man chuckled. "I was beginning to wonder when you'd arrive."

"Pardon?" Erik asked curiously, dismounting his horse.

Declining to comment further, Tajmar waved Erik over. "Come! Take a walk with me."

"Go ahead, Erik. I'll stay here with the horses." Nadir held out his hand for Atreus's reins.

Side by side, the two men walked quietly, virtually shoulder to shoulder. Occasionally Tajmar would stop to stare into the heavens and smile and then continue along the banks of the whispering river once more.

Coughing to break the silence, Erik spoke up. "Atreus and Thyestes served us well on our journey. I thank you for entrusting them to me."

"So, you've taken care of whatever it was you needed to do then?" Tajmar bent to pick up a smooth stone. He stood back up considering it carefully.

Smiling wistfully, Erik replied. "I did."

"And what of your mother and sister?"

"My sister and I were able to share but a brief moment with her before she..." Erik swallowed hard and walked ahead of Tajmar a few feet. He could not bring himself to finish his words, not wanting to speak of his mother's death in grave detail. That was not why he was here. "I've come to return your horses to you."

"But they do not belong to me," Tajmar answered simply. He threw his rock across the water, watching it skip across the surface several times before landing with a splash. He accepted the fact that the previous issue was not one Erik was willing to share. Though, his body language told him all he needed to know.

"If you mean to say that they are rightly mine, I would have to disagree with you. I fear I have committed a great injustice against you." Erik began to unravel his shemagh, facing the direction of the rippling river.

Tajmar turned and placed his hand upon Erik's shoulder. "I gave you my word that they would be yours."

"But I did not." Erik turned to face him, the mask now plainly visible upon his face.

"I see." The old man brought his hands behind him, making a show of considering the words.

"I want you to know that I had no intentions of ever returning here once I had left." Erik admitted.

Tajmar remained silent, patiently waiting.

"It is not guilt that brings me back," Erik clarified, unsure of what to make of the man's odd stare. "It was wisdom. I know now that the mask will always be a part of me, not by choice of my own, but to keep away those who would otherwise not understand."

The old man looked him up and down. "You've given this much thought, have you?"

"I have." Erik removed his mask and offered it to him freely. "This, like the other I had given to you in exchange for your Arabians, is not the only mask I own," he confessed, as Tajmar accepted it, turning it over in his hands.

"Tell me then why do you offer this to me?" He held it up to the sky, considering the reflection the sun cast along its alabaster length.

"Because you have been a friend, and it is in the presence of such, that I have no need to conceal my true self."

Tajmar smiled, looking to the sky once more. "Well, it seems I've gotten much more than I had hoped for," he laughed heartily.

Erik raised his eyebrow, wondering what had prompted such boisterous laughter.

"Oh, my boy," he tried to calm himself, placing his hand against his stomach. "Forgive me for my outburst."

Erik scowled in confusion. "Care to tell me what it is you find so amusing?"

"It is not amusement that fuels my laughter, but joy!"

"Joy? To be in possession of one mask when I have many?" Erik asked incredulously. He stared at it, still firmly within Tajmar's grasp.

"Do not think me feebleminded simply because of the way I choose to live. I knew you would have more where this came from." Tajmar held the mask up and continued to explain. "The journey to redemption was already laid out before you. It was merely up to you to choose the correct path toward it."

"I'm not quite sure I'm following you correctly."

Tajmar moved to sit upon a large rock, giving his weary feet a moment's rest. "In coming back, you have earned your right to those Arabians…and this." He held out the mask to Erik. "And might I add that it was a lot more than I had bargained for."

"You knew I would return? How is that possible?"

"I didn't_ know_. I did however, have faith."

The more they spoke, the more Tajmar reminded Erik of Nadir. They were both very passionate about their beliefs and quite quirky when it came to discussing it in the context of a higher purpose.

"I still do not understand." Erik stared at the older man, amazed at the turn of events.

"A horse is simply a beast of burden, despite its worth, or breeding or heritage." Tajmar explained. "Men though, have an inner voice. One that speaks to them in the stillness of their hearts. It guides us in all we do. We are all keepers of our destinies, Erik. Go proudly, knowing you've awakened responsibly to your own."

"So will you still take no payment for those fine horses, my friend?"

Smiling sagely, Tajmar waived him off. "Let them bear you home, in peace and in happiness."

Knowing there was nothing he could add to those wise words, and his feelings once more betraying him, Erik simply replied. "Be well, Tajmar." He gripped the old man's hand and shook it firmly. He then bowed and walked away toward Nadir and the horses.

"I shall see you in the next life, Erik!" Tajmar called out to him, waving his handkerchief in farewell.

Erik glanced back over his left shoulder and gave the elder Chleuh a half smile. "I shall expect no less!"

Nadir met Erik halfway, all the while grinning as he approached with Atreus in tow.

"And what are you smiling about?" Erik inquired, as he climbed atop his horse.

"I just find it extremely amusing that the old fellow bested you." The Persian adjusted his saddle to face him, guessing the outcome of what had transpired from afar.

"He did not." Erik looked back again, smiling at the old farmer from a distance. "I came of my own accord and now I am leaving on my terms."

"Whatever you wish to believe, old boy…" Nadir laughed, turning his horse and riding ahead, leaving his words hanging in the air between him and his companion.

Erik narrowed his eyes, wrapping his hands about the reins and digging his heels into Atreus' sides to spur him forward. "You'd better pray to Allah that I don't catch up to you!" He yelled after him.

* * *

Minutes later, Tajmar made his way back toward his house. As he walked along the riverbank, he knew that he had made the right decision. While the horses he'd given were indeed rare and valuable animals, he felt comforted in his resolve to help another man find his way. His son, of course, would again curse him for a fool for not taking any money. _"One day perhaps, he might understand."_ To Tajmar, it mattered not that they were poor, nearly bankrupt in fact, as long as his conscience was clean. 

"All will be right in the end." He spoke aloud as he walked, bathing in the light of the sun. He shoved his hands in his pocket, striding casually as he approached his home. His brow furrowed as his hand encountered something in his pocket he was unaware of. He pulled forth from his pants, a thick envelope. He carefully broke the seal and opened it, gasping at its contents. It was the deed of ownership to a property in far-off Taddert. There was also an intricate map of the house, showing its many rooms and huge land holdings. Finally there was a brief note, written in an elegant yet rushed script.

**_I had a feeling you still wouldn't take payment for the horses, my friend. So instead, take this, and all of my gratitude. The house belonged to my mother, as wise and wonderful a woman as anyone could ever be fortunate to meet. I do not give you this as payment for our mounts, but in the sincere hope that your wisdom and your will, shall give the house life and laughter once more. _**

_**-Erik Delacroix**_

Tajmar smiled, staring off at the fading dust trail that the two men on horseback had kicked up minutes earlier as they rode off toward the north. His laughter was infectious as he entered his house, exchanging the bright sunlight for the comfort of the cool shadows inside.

* * *

The port in Tangier was the central meeting place for the journey across the Strait of Gibraltar and into Andalucía, Spain. That would be but the first stop on the way to France; the rest of the trip to be made by train. Chelal tavern sat along its docks, catering to travelers and locals abound. Today it played host to Raoul and his party, as they awaited Erik and Alhena's separate arrivals. 

Oddly enough, Erik and Nadir had arrived ahead of Alhena and Guifford. The two men assumed it was because of their mode of transportation; the Arabians being far more capable of covering distances swifter than the barbs his sister and her escort rode.

As time passed, they continued to wait. Just as Erik was about to worry over Alhena's whereabouts, she and Guifford appeared at the far end of the docks. _"Not a moment too soon."_ He smiled, raising his hand to greet them.

Coming to a stop before him, Erik helped his sister off her mount while Guifford attended to their horses. The others had remained inside of the tavern, enjoying their afternoon tea and quiet conversations.

"What's all this then?" Erik asked Alhena, as she lay out a series of satchels and bags upon the ground

"Care to take a guess?"

"What do you think?" Erik smirked wryly.

"Mother apparently had some personal items at the palace. It was the reason for our delay." She nodded over at Guifford as he tipped his hat and stepped into the tavern.

"What items?" He wondered, picking up a book at random and leafing through it.

"Sketches and personal journals mostly, a few pieces of jewelry, and a curious wooden musical box. I figured we could go through these together on the way to France"

"A music box?"

"Yes, but it's broken. Haven't you been paying attention…"

"Can I see that now?"

"Sure, brother," she handed him the last knapsack she carried. "If you don't mind, I'll be inside." She pointed at the building Guifford had disappeared into.

He took the bag, carefully placing it onto the floor beside the other items, and knelt on one knee to sift through it, ignoring her departure.

"Have fun." She shook her head in amusement and walked off.

After a few moments of rummaging, his hand wrapped around something solid, concealed within a thick cloth. He pulled it free and then placed it on top of the bag, undoing the leather binding.

Inside was a wooden box made of walnut. It still held its polished shine, though in some areas it was a bit dull, most likely due to use and time. On its side, was a handle where one could turn and listen to the music. Erik tuned the arm, but there was no resistance. If that was all that was wrong with it, it could be easily fixed. He opened the top and inside lay something he recognized, fondly to his surprise. He assumed it was something his mind had created in dreams, not a childhood memory. That would be impossible. But was it?

A monkey sat upon a box, its joints hinged to presumably move when the music was in play. Dressed in royal blue velvet with gold designs, the monkey appeared to represent an important figure head; a prince or perhaps a nobleman.

Erik touched the figurine with his gloved finger, faintly hearing the music in his mind. _"Could this be the tune? Was this my first gift as I was born into this world?"_ He now had something to keep him occupied during the long trip back home. He would fix it, if only to hear the music that now haunted his mind like an unfinished concerto.

* * *

The trip across the Gibraltar had gone well, save for the few times Guifford became ill. Ahead of them was the port of Algeciras, off the coast of Spain. Several ships lay moored in the distance though one in particular drew Raoul's attention. The battleship Solferino, belonging to the French Navy, sat boldly amongst the rest. He wasn't sure what to make of it, though he had a sinking suspicion it had something to do with him. 

He was right.

As they disembarked the barge, they were greeted by the crew of the Solferino. Standing in the middle of his fellow naval men was none other than his mother-in-law, Madame Giry.

Of all things, this was something they had not expected to see.

"Maman!" Meg called out excitedly and sprinted across the docks toward her mother.

As the others closed the distance, Madame Giry stared Raoul dead in the eye. "Monsieur, you have _much_ to answer for." She held her daughter tight and placed a kiss upon her forehead.

It had not taken a month for Madame Giry to realize her daughter and new son-in-law were missing. It took a visit to Raoul's estate to confirm what she had already suspected. The London holiday that Raoul had coached his servants into telling was believable to most. However, not by her. The main curiosity was that she had received no word from her daughter about a sudden trip. A honeymoon would have made more sense, but the fact that Christine had accompanied them raised more questions than it did answers. It all came together with her second visit to The House of Roses. Erik's driver, Victor, was not very good at telling lies. Quite honestly, he was afraid of the Madame and didn't wish to find himself on the receiving end of the cane she carried.

She had very little to go on, other than what was left in the note Sebastien had written Raoul, which he had left behind in his haste to depart. With the help of the French Navy, they had sent out two ships; one at the port of Algeciras in the south of Spain and the other in the East at Alicante. Through the process of elimination, and confirmation from the captain of the vessels Raoul and Erik had boarded, she had decided that one or the other would reunite her with her daughter in the end.

A group of six men from the battleship Magenta were sent out as a recovery team to follow Raoul's trail to Zanfara, but further search had turned up nothing. The trail had gone cold at Shamira's Eye and there was no way of knowing for certain which direction he may or may not have taken from there.

All Madame Giry could do was to wait patiently and have faith that her daughter would return home safely. Today was that day she had prayed for. She had much to be thankful for as she held her daughter lovingly. Looking around at the rest of them, familiar faces and strangers alike, she smiled serenely. "I'm sure you all have many tales to tell. Come now, let us go aboard and begin. Shall we?"

Meg returned her mother's hug, full of love and longing. She, in turn, had playfully patted her daughter's stomach as they released the embrace. "Hopefully some good has come from this disappearance of yours." Madame Giry winked. A grandchild would certainly excuse all that had come to pass.

Meg laughed, blushing at the same time. She had no such news to share with her mother, but perhaps when they returned home and by the grace of God, it would happen soon enough. The words they shared were heard by no one, but the look the older Giry gave Raoul as he approached made him certain he was the topic of their mirth.

"Take my wife home, Madame." Raoul held Meg's hands softly as he addressed her mother. "I shall join you both soon in France, but for the moment, I must see to the arrangements of our other friends."

"Can we not all travel together?" Madame Giry asked.

"Perhaps, but the crowded berths of a naval ship are no way to travel for a party as large as ours. Truthfully, after all we've been through, a bit of comfort is in order. I know you have your own room though, and one more body will not be a problem. Especially if that one person is your daughter."

Meg looked at her husband, bewildered at what was happening. Beside her, her mother was nodding in understanding.

Raoul continued. "You two have much to catch up on. I only trust you will do me a favor and let my parents know of my imminent return. The rest of us will travel by train and be back in France by the end of the week."

"You would so willingly abandon your wife like this?" Meg shot him an accusatory glance.

"My dearest, Meg." Raoul took her arm, guiding her apart from her mother. "Quite the contrary, I know how much she has missed you, and I would not dream of separating the two of you for any longer than necessary."

"I won't be apart from you again, my love!" Meg sobbed, her shoulders hitching up and down in time with her tears.

"Listen to me now, little Meg. The Solferino will get you to France a lot faster than the train will. I'm not just thinking of your comfort but of your mother's as well. Think of her all that that she's been through since you've been gone. She deserves to be home now and I would ask that you accompany her and prepare our home for my arrival."

Meg paused, considering it. "You are right, darling. I would not want Maman to go through much more of this. I will go with her. But if you do not hurry home to me by week's end as promised, I will have you spending many nights regretting it!" She laughed, even as the tears flowed down her cheeks.

He leaned close and whispered in her ear. "I shall hold you to your word. I only hope you are not teasing me with these threats of amorous lovemaking."

Reaching up, she grabbed his head in her hands, drawing him down into a fierce kiss. So passionate was their meeting, it caused onlookers to either look away in embarrassment, or whistle in appreciation. Raoul's knees weakened at the sheer intensity of it. When at last they broke the kiss, he knew with certainty that she was not teasing him after all.

Meg stepped back stood by her mother's side once more. She took her by the arm and finally led her up the ramp of the ship.

As Raoul turned away, his face flushed, he met Erik's stare. "Please spare me from your unnecessary taunting," he sighed, seeing the amusement behind the mask.

"Come, Comte." Erik clapped him on the back as he walked by. "We've got a train to catch."

* * *

_Several days later…_

Barcelona was rich in architectural history, from Romanesque to Renaissance and even earlier periods; it was one of Erik's favorite cities for admiring structural magnificence. His legs were crossed, his right hand supporting his chin while his elbow rested atop his thigh. He stared out of the passenger car window, the sun beginning to set in the distance. These last few minutes of light would allow him to view the final set of buildings which stood gloriously out over the horizon.

With the others sipping tea in the dining section of the train, he sat quietly in the private car he had purchased for him and Christine for the remaining leg of their trip across Spain. _"I will have to remember to invest in an estate in this country,"_ he noted as the final structure disappeared out of view, leaving him between rolling hills and lush greenery. As the sky darkened, he could spot a few stars becoming visible against the backdrop of night.

"How was your tea, mon ange?" He looked up at her briefly as she entered, and then returned his attention to the window.

"Fine, though I wish you could have joined us."

"You know I am not accustomed to socializing longer than need be. It almost seems this entire trip has been one series of conversations after another. I apologize if I appear selfish, but I just wished to spend this time alone for once."

"I understand." She sat across from him and bent forward to undo the laces of her boots. "I would have stayed with them longer, but I found myself needing some quiet time as well."

Normally it was hard to distract Erik from his analytical observations of the world outside, but he could not help but glance over at his wife out of the corner of his eyes. The dress she had chose to wear today was cut low in front, modestly so of course. Yet, she wore the top ties loose, to compensate for the fullness of her breasts. The months of her pregnancy had been kind to her. Now in her second trimester, her body had blossomed into a thing of beauty.

She caught his sidelong glances as she undressed. "I was thinking, once we reach Melun would it be alright if I changed the bedroom next to ours into a nursery?"

"Whatever you wish," he answered methodically, concentrating on her reflection against the window.

She told him in length, of her plans for the new nursery while she continued to remove her clothing. Erik attempted to be sincere, nodding occasionally as she spoke, but his mind kept drifting to the perfection of her body. He had not looked at her this way for some time now, too anxious to get her back home and resting. But now he allowed himself the pleasure of each curve, following her movements slowly with his eyes.

His answers had become more systematic with each question she posed, though now she awaited a single response in which he remained silent. She had wondered that perhaps he may be thinking the question over carefully before answering. _"But I only asked about a bassinet for the baby." _It was then that she realized what had been truly holding his attention. His left hand traced over her image in the window longingly, his mouth slightly open unintentionally. Clad now in nothing more than a light cotton chemise, he was purposefully undressing her with his eyes.

The silence between them had gone unnoticed. He continued his worship of her while she reveled in the power she felt over him. Her inhibitions were slowly falling by the wayside, as she could see him mentally working her over in his mind. They were several feet away from each other, but their bodies were calling out in their respective longing.

Erik was transfixed. The train rocked him hypnotically from side to side, fueling a sudden need to make love to her. Christine's own thoughts of pleasure were becoming more and more evident and she too found herself aching to touch and be touched by him. As if reading her thoughts, he stood up and walked over to her. They stared at each other for a moment, saying everything and nothing between their gazes.

And then it happened.

She found herself pinned against the window by his body, raw animal passion in which all external forces were now irrelevant. Past the point of resistance, she closed her eyes in complete abandonment as his hands and mouth fell upon her body in silent time to the music and rhythm he sensed from all around them. "Oh, Erik," she exhaled as his mouth traveled upward against her neck. His hands gripped anxiously at her back as her mouth met his. Her tongue traced his lips encouragingly, and without hesitation he parted his mouth in eager anticipation. His tongue to hers was electrifying; the passion they had both gone so long without was apparent in the fiery kiss they now shared. She affected him in ways unimaginable, an addictive hold for which there was no cure, except to drown in the intoxicating nature of her body. He undid his trousers hurriedly and let them fall, stepping free as he ran his hands up along her thighs, lifting her chemise above her waist.

He entered her recklessly, and it was all she could do not to scream out with pleasure. She twined her legs around him as he held her backside in his grasp. He pushed into her repeatedly, the heat of her body creating an outline of fine mist as it pressed against the cool glass. The carriage melted around her as her whole world became the masterful movements of him inside her, waves of euphoria rising tremendously in her body as a result. His skilled persistence made her feel weak against his commanding strokes, and her body cried out shamelessly for more. The smell of their lovemaking engulfed him in a dizzying bliss as he sought her deeper, to satisfy both her, and the demands his body required.

With every thrust she moaned, long and low uncontrollably, a slave to the exquisite pleasures he wrought upon her in sweet climactic torture. Her nails clawed at his back as he began to push harder and faster against her. Her legs tightened around his waist and her body grew taut as she prepared to lose herself to him.

"God, yes," he groaned, wanting nothing more than to please her before allowing himself to come undone. His eyes grew dark and wild. "Give yourself to me, Christine," he panted roughly.

Her body hummed and arched as ecstasy came to claim her in long gripping waves. He kept his pace as she screamed in delirium, every muscle in her body clenching as wave after wave consumed her.

He grew tense as he watched her shuddering freely against him. He ached to absolve the heaviness that burned deep within him. As she relaxed in his arms, he slowed his moments, despite his body's urgency to give in. His breath was shallow and strained, but he remained in control of himself. He would please her fully or not at all.

His green eyes glinting, he seduced her body possessively in every way. Her eyes now held his piercing gaze and he drew strength from her, where once he had none. The train whistled down the track as his pace gradually quickened, gaining hold of her once more. With each forward thrust, she whimpered and begged him for more. "Oh yes, oh yes…" she bit her bottom lip, resting her head back against the fog covered window in wanton bliss.

"Christine…" His voice was thick with lust as he filled her with long, punishing strokes. "How I've longed to touch you…" He was breathing hard, watching the culmination of emotions coursing hot through her body. "…to feel you." To know that his actions caused such unbridled physical pleasure drove him mad. "Oh, God…." he moaned again, his voice ragged. He grunted with each thrust, provoking her to submit to his powerful dominance over her.

Her whole body gave a shudder as she moaned deeply, succumbing to the rhapsodic tide that washed over her. She clung to him desperately, calling out his name in fevered breaths. He could hold out no further, finally allowing his body to surrender to his carnal desires. He shot forward, driven over the edge by the pulsating rhythms inside him, as his most intimate being was surrounded in a warm velvet caress. He growled, claiming her mouth desperately, and held her tight against him in a fierce embrace.

Together they collapsed to the floor, bathing in the afterglow of their union. Erik welcomed the cool air against his heated skin. He was used to it. Christine, on the other hand, needed to be kept as warm as possible. He would not have her catch a cold if he could prevent it. He reached out for his cape that lay upon the bench he had been sitting on earlier, as she closed her eyes against his chest. Carefully he covered her body, using but a portion of it to cover himself. He then brushed her curls back behind her ear and traced her rosy cheek tenderly. "I love you, Christine," he whispered, smilingly contently as he closed his eyes.

* * *

**Author's Note**  
I appreciate you all for being so faithful to me and my little corner of Phantom fiction. All your reviews still move me very much. I am glad the story has been so well-received and loved by many. Thank you! 

The Countdown Now Reads: "4 Chapters Left!"

**Disclaimer**  
The battleships Solferino and Magenta were actual ironclad warships for the French Navy. Solferino was launched in 1861 and Stricken in1882. The Magenta was launched in 1861 and Sunk by internal explosion in 1875. Naturally, I am not affiliated nor do I own any rights to these historic ships.


	37. Chapter 37

**CHAPTER 37**

Erik had dozed in and out of sleep throughout the night. For the most part during his waking moments, he spent them staring at his wife, peacefully nestled within his arm. Occasionally he would caress the swell of her belly lovingly, thinking of the child which grew within her. They certainly had come a long way since that first moment he had pulled her through the mirror at the opera house. Had anyone told him then that he'd be where he was right now, he likely would have laughed it off. Just before strangling the person with his lasso, of course.

Now fate, it seemed, had given him everything he had ever hoped for. _"My Christine…"_ He smiled as he watched the evening skies slowly giving way to dawn. His past may have started out tragically, but that was now far behind him. He looked forward to the future now, with Christine at his side and many children to bless his home with their laughter and love.

His thoughts strayed to Madame Giry, remembering how she had cared for him at a time when all others did not. She had been the only mother figure in his world of unending darkness. Over the years they had forged a friendship, though it was not always without its problems. Earlier on, he had had trouble with trusting her fully, always feeling the need to lie about everything. He had grown to learn that it was virtually impossible to get anything past her. At times it was as if she knew him more than he knew himself. But through it all, if he was certain of one thing, it was that her relationship was invaluable to him.

Laughing inwardly, he thought back to the port in Algeciras. What a sight it had been to see Madame Giry standing upon the docks, both hands resting atop the ivory handle of her cane, the stern look on her face torn with both relief and anger. Not that he had ever dreamt of being Raoul, but he was certainly glad not to be in his position at that particular moment. The hard look she had given the young Comte had only meant one thing. He had not been forthcoming with her about the nature of their absence.

Erik had remained quiet, the others following his lead as Madame Giry confronted Raoul immediately after they had disembarked the barge. Though only he and his wife had known her well, it did not take a genius for all of them to figure out that she was upset. He had never bothered to ask the Comte about the finer details involved in his and Christine's trip, concentrating only on recovering Meg and Alhena at the time. It all made sense now though seeing the older woman's face, knowing full well she would have never let Christine accompany her son-in-law had she been privy to her daughter's abduction.

Amused, Erik let slip a half chuckle, stirring his wife next to him. She simply turned away from him, taking the portion of his cape he had covering himself with her. He sighed, deciding it was best to get up and close the curtains of the window before the light of day disturbed her from her restful sleep. He took one last look at the passing countryside, the rolling hills shrouded in mist which would burn off with the first light of day. He held his hand to the window for a moment, feeling the cold against it, before covering the window and returning to lie beside his wife once more.

* * *

_A week later…_

Madame Giry and Meg had met them all at the train depot in Orléans, France. Their belongings were being stowed securely within the several carriages that Francois, Victor, and Nicolas had driven. They took a few moments to say their respective goodbyes, promising to visit the de Chagny estate for dinner in a few days.

Off to the side, Madame Giry walked with Erik, her arm locked with his for support. "There is much my daughter has told me, mon ami."

"I'm sure she has. I'd imagine anything more I could add at this point would be inconsequential," he teased.

They laughed together a moment, knowing how well Meg loved to tell tales.

"As true as that may be, I wanted to congratulate you on your impending fatherhood."

"Thank you." He paused, considering his next words a moment before continuing. "Annette, there is something I must ask you."

They stopped walking, and Madame Giry turned to look at him curiously. "What is it, Erik?" Her voice carried a trace of concern.

"I've had plenty of time to think about this during my time away, and I've already discussed the matter with Christine," he paused.

"Mon dieu! What's wrong?" The elder Giry felt a panic rise inside of her.

Suddenly seeing how this must look to her, he laughed and shook his head. "Must you always perceive things for the worst?"

"You must know by now that any matter concerning you, leaves me little choice in thinking otherwise," she admitted.

"Annette," he eyed her thoughtfully and smiled. "I simply wished to ask if you would consider being the Godmother of our child. Christine and I would be honored if you said yes."

"Idiot! You gave me such a fright!" She brought her hand to her chest, sighing in relief. "Did you think I would refuse such a request? I would be delighted!" Her laughter joined his as they embraced again.

"Monsieur Delacroix, the carriage is ready!" Victor called out to him.

"Then I shall tell Christine you've accepted." Erik stepped away, smiling back at her. "Now, come. I shall see you in a few days for dinner, but for now, after all of this," he turned, gesturing grandly to the world around him. "I would just like to return my wife to the comforts of our home."

* * *

_The following day…_

It was a cool afternoon at Père Lachaise. Erik, Christine, Alhena, and Nadir, had gathered at the main entrance of the cemetery. They entered the west gate, walking the long distance northeast to reach Eugène Delacroix's tomb. For Erik, it was a strange feeling to be traveling to the grave of a father he had never known, but yet he felt a tremendous sense of loss as he held tight to his mother's urn. With the afternoon breezes blowing his cape behind him, they slowly approached the marker.

A few moments of silence separated the four as they each paid their respects individually.

"_You and your wife gave the world a tremendous gift, sir. My sadness is that you never got to see it in life. I should like to meet you someday, to see you both reunited together with my dearest friend. Allah willing, that shall be many moons from now. We all have much living to do yet, as does your son, Erik. Today and forever, may you both have peace upon your souls," _Nadir prayed quietly. He then bowed before stepping away from the tomb.

"_Your son has brought me such happiness. I am truly blessed because of Erik. I cannot thank you both enough for bringing him into the world. He means everything to me and I love him with all my heart. I wish you both happiness in heaven and an eternity of peace at the right hand of God. I pray that you both watch over us and our child, just as He does." _A tear running down her cheek, Christine too stepped away.

"_Father, I wish that we could make up the time we lost long ago. I know you loved us, yet I also know you grieved. I do not blame you for your absence anymore. I've learned that love can heal all harm. Until we meet again, know that I still love you. And Mother? I thank you for making me who I am. Not just for giving me life, but making me strong. In both words and wisdom, I learned everything from you. I will always love you, and I hope I can make you proud someday." _Alhena wiped her eyes, looking over at Erik, standing beside her in silence.

"_Mother and Father. Two concepts I thought I knew once. My deepest regret is that it took so many years to understand the true meaning behind those simple terms. I have not the words to say to express my appreciation for both of you. My life has not always been an exemplary one, being bereft of my parents love. But as you can both see, I've been redeemed by the love of those around me. That redemption will keep my soul happy and free for all the rest of my days. I hope that the two of you have found each other once more, just as I've finally found myself, whole in mind and spirit.__"_ Erik raised his head from prayer and reached out for his sister's hand.

Christine and Nadir stood a few feet back, watching as both siblings scattered their mother's ashes across the length of the grave.

When the task was complete, Erik wrapped his right arm about Alhena's shoulders and pulled her close as she wept softly. A few tears escaped his eyes, nearly forcing him to break down beside her, but for her sake, he remained steady.

The wind rustled through the trees, creating a sweeping vision of serenity. Leaves glided amongst them as they were carried through the air. Christine watched her husband and sister-in-law, wishing to somehow sooth their sorrow. She did what she knew best, in honor of their parents' memory. With the gift God had given her, one that Erik had helped to enhance, she would sing.

_Ave Maria  
Gratia plena  
Maria, gratia plena  
Maria, gratia plena  
Ave, ave dominus  
Dominus tecum  
Benedicta tu in mulieribus  
Et benedictus  
Et benedictus fructus ventris  
Ventris tuae, Jesus.  
Ave Maria_

Erik looked to the pale blue skies above, tears flowing freely now, as Christine's angelic voice rang out to the heavens and moved him deeply.

_Ave Maria  
Mater Dei  
Ora pro nobis peccatoribus  
Ora pro nobis  
Ora, ora pro nobis peccatoribus  
Nunc et in hora mortis  
Et in hora mortis nostrae  
Et in hora mortis nostrae  
Et in hora mortis nostrae  
Ave Maria_

Her song came to and end, being replaced by only the whispering winds once again.

Nadir expressed his appreciation softly. "That was very beautiful," he smiled, and then took Christine by the hand. "Come, let us wait for them there," he pointed at a bench a few yards away. "You should not be standing for so long."

"Oh, I'm fine. I shouldn't leave him here like this." Her heart was breaking for her husband's grief.

"We will not be far," Nadir assured her. "They will be along shortly."

Christine looked back at the two, still facing their father's tomb completely silent. "I guess I could sit for just awhile."

The two of them walked down the path toward the bench, leaving Erik and his sister to their grieving.

* * *

Raoul sat in his study, months of paperwork piled upon his desk. It would take him weeks to go through it all, but he would do it all the same. He was not about to ask for his father's help, not after leaving France the way he did. He would just have to prove himself to be responsible, even if it meant being chained to his desk day and night. He sighed, wondering for the tenth time if he and Meg should have gone to the funeral with the others. Erik had invited them, but he also did not seem offended by their refusal. It was after all, a family matter. 

"You sent for me, Comte?" Guifford knocked on the wall, poking his head in from behind the solid oak door.

"Ah, Monsieur Marceau, indeed I did." Raoul looked up from his work and waved him inside.

"Is there some sort of problem?" He asked tentatively.

"Problem? Oh, no. I'd like to have a word with you." Raoul gestured at a chair opposite his desk.

Guifford took a seat, removing his bowler hat. "I have something I would like to speak with you about also."

"You do?" Raoul leaned forward, his hands interlocked upon his desk. "Go on then."

"I would like to return home, to Compiègne if you will allow it. With all that has gone on in my life in the past, I have not seen my children and sister in several years now."

Raoul smiled. "I've made the arrangements already. You are to leave before nightfall."

Guifford was stunned. At the most he had hoped to beg for a few days off to spend with his family before the Comte put him to work in his employ. "Are you serious?"

Nodding, he continued. "As le Comtesse has promised, I've taken the liberty to compensate you for all that you've done. I've just finished setting up an account in your name and I think you will find the amount is more than suitable for your needs. Your family will never grow hungry again, Monsieur." Seeing the big man stunned by what he was hearing, Raoul winked at him, "See to it that you do not squander the funds needlessly."

"I don't know how I will ever be able to repay you for your kindness and generosity."

"You saved my wife's life. You owe me nothing." Raoul extended his hand across the table.

Guifford shook it firmly. "Was there something more you wished to ask? I find myself eager to gather my things now, if I may."

"Ah, yes. I almost forget. It's a matter of business." Raoul opened his desk and pulled forth several documents.

"What sort of business?"

"Well, as you know, I am the patron of the Opera Populaire, and it appears we are in need of a stagehand."

Shaking his head, Guifford replied. "I am not much for the Arts, Comte."

"You don't need to be. You would be in charge of building the new sets for the stage. My wife told me your field is carpentry, is it not?"

"Yes, that is true. Unfortunately my love for it never garnered me any work back home. It's been quite some time since I've planed a piece of wood or even picked up a hammer for that matter. My skills now may be less than satisfactory to meet your needs, Comte."

"That's understandable, given your previous line of work. Though, it is said that one never truly forgets that which they love." Raoul smiled. "Now, I can only hold the job for a week, in which time, should you choose not to accept, I will be forced to find someone else. The new production of Giuseppe Verdi's "La Traviata" is already in rehearsals and the opera house will be in need of those new set designs immediately, so you can understand the position I'm in."

"I do, though I was hoping to find something closer to home. I've spent far too much time away from my children already."

"If you are not opposed to relocating, I can make sure you that you would have a home here in Paris, in which to raise your children.

He blew out a great breath, in wonder of the Comte's offer. "You would do this, for me?"

"And your family," Raoul added.

"I apologize if I do not appear to be grateful, but this is something that I am not accustomed to. No one has ever treated me in this manner."

"I assure you, my offer is sincere. I am a man of business, Monsieur Marceau, not barbarity."

"If I am still allowed the week to decide, then I should like to think on it more and talk with my family before agreeing with certainty."

"Of course. I shall expect to hear from you in a week's time." Raoul stood from behind his desk and walked over to Guifford. "Come," he placed his hand against the man's back. "Let us enjoy lunch before you rush off to pack."

Both men exited the study and headed for the dining room, Guifford's rumbling stomach causing them to laugh on the way.

* * *

Erik and Alhena walked arm and arm toward Christine and Nadir. Just before they reached them, Alhena stopped and faced her brother directly. 

"Where one journey ends, another begins, my brother."

"What do you mean?"

"It is time I was on my way."

"On your way to where?" Erik asked in confusion.

Alhena looked around wistfully. "Anywhere, but here really."

"How can you say that? You've only just arrived and you are here with me." He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "I can provide you with whatever it is you'll need here in France."

"France may be your beloved home, Erik, but it is not mine." Alhena met his puzzled gaze with a sad stare of her own.

"It's not my home either, Erik." Nadir joined in, as he and Christine walked up to where they stood, unnoticed by the siblings.

"Stay out of this, Daroga." He snarled. "This does not concern you. This is between me and my sister."

"Don't you talk to him in that tone!" Alhena raised her voice.

"Erik, what's going on?" Christine asked in worry, seeing her husband tense up as he faced the others.

Nadir put his hands on the Alhena's shoulders. "I can defend myself against the likes of him, my dear. I've been doing it for years."

"I said stay _out _of this, Daroga!" Erik turned on his friend, raising a finger before the Persian's surprised face.

Christine was not amused. "Please, you all need to calm down. This is neither the time nor the place to be fighting. We are amongst the dead and this place is to be respected." She pleaded with them.

"My apologies, sister. But my pig-headed brother seems to think he can run my life for me." Alhena replied simply.

"Pig-headed? Pig-headed!" Erik fumed.

Gripping the Persian by the arm, Christine implored him. "Nadir, could you please take my husband over to the bench. I wish to speak with Alhena without interruption."

"As you wish." He bowed to her, moving between Alhena and her brother.

"I'm not going _anywhere_. We're not done here." Erik stepped away from Nadir's grasp.

"You see? Pig-headed!" Alhena smirked wickedly.

"Alhena…" Christine chided, scolding her with her tone.

Erik sputtered, looking for a response. "I take great offense to…"

"Please!" Christine raised her hand to silence him. "Just go with Nadir. Do this _one_ thing for me."

It took a few moments before Erik decided to comply with his wife's wishes, not wanting to upset her delicate state of being.

"Come on then." Nadir took hold of Erik's arm.

"I won't have _you_ leading me anywhere. I am capable of moving of my own free will." Erik swirled his cape about him and rushed off down the path toward the bench, Nadir following after him and shaking his head.

"If you plan on trying to convince me to stay, I should warn you, you'll only be wasting your breath." Alhena told Christine, as the two women walked together.

Christine nodded in understanding. "I know that I have not spent nearly enough time with you, but despite appearances, I'm not about to stop you from leaving. I only wish to say goodbye and wish you well."

"I don't understand."

Looking around their quiet surroundings, Christine continued. "I, of all people, know that when a woman is set in her ways, there's nothing to keep her from changing them." She smiled. "You are a grown woman and Erik has no right to tell you to lead a life that is not yours. You should know that it is because he loves you, that he acts in this manner. You must also understand that he's never known anything remotely close to this."

"Close to what?"

"Family." Christine replied simply. "He never had a father. The woman he had known as his mother was a monster. And his true mother he had newly found, died before he could truly bond with her. You are the last piece to the puzzle, of the life he could have had."

Alhena scoffed. "Does he not realize that I will not be gone forever from his life? I plan on visiting him as often as possible, once I am settled wherever it may be. And I would hope that he would do the same."

"It is not knowing with certainty that you will, which fuels his need to hold on to you."

Her hand reached up to brush back her hair. "Well, there's no way of easing that fear of his until I do return."

"Precisely. Which brings me back to saying goodbye." Christine held out her arms.

Alhena wrapped her own arms around Christine lovingly. "You're a lot smarter than he'll ever know."

Giggling, Christine replied. "Oh, he'll figure it out someday." They released one another after a few moments. "So, you have no idea where you're headed?"

"On the train ride through Spain, Nadir often spoke of Persia. I don't know that I will call it home, but it is to be my first stop." Alhena admitted.

"Persia!" Erik said incredulously, storming up the path where they stood.

"I'm sorry, he wouldn't stay put for very long." Nadir sighed.

"Of all places, Persia?" Erik turned to glare at Nadir. "This is your doing, isn't it!"

"I never suggested she visit Persia. I had only spoken of it to her."

"And that makes it your doing, Daroga!"

"Erik!" Christine raised her voice, which made him turn suddenly to face her. "Be it Persia or elsewhere, she is leaving, and you and I have no right to keep her from going."

"Persia is dangerous!" Erik faced his sister. "It may be a place filled with mystic beauty, but there are dangers so dark and unimaginable... I can't allow this."

"Erik, listen to me!" Christine snapped at him impatiently, gathering his full attention. "Mon amour, if we do not grant her the freedom to leave, then we are no better than the men that had kept her against her will for the whole of her life."

As if he was slapped across the face, Erik knew immediately that she was right. It still made the decision difficult for him. He had hoped she would stay longer, at least for the baby's birth, _"And for me,"_ he admitted to himself.

"You can't travel to Persia alone. I need to be sure you'll be safe."

Nadir spoke up. "I have a place in Shiraz, miles away from Mazanderan. It is modest compared to your taste for the luxurious, but we would be safe there." He flushed slightly. "If she will allow it, I will gladly accompany her."

It almost seemed unfair that now he would be losing not only his sister, but his best friend too. But if there was anyone to entrust her safety to, it would be the Persian. _"Nadir had once been responsible for my own life. While I live and breathe, I will not forget what he had done for me that day by the Caspian coastline." _

Alhena smiled shyly. "I guess you could escort me. But I thought France was your home?"

He faced her, gesturing over his shoulder at Erik. "Only long enough to keep watch over _his_ miserable soul." He smiled and continued. "I think it's safe to say he won't be causing any unnecessary mischief now that he'll be a father."

"Well, it would appear that some good will come of this trip of yours, sister. I can _finally_ be rid of his bedraggled hide." Erik grinned, making sure to get the last jibe at his friend. He approached her and enfolded her in a strong embrace. "Be sure to write upon your arrival, or I shall worry. If I have to travel back to Persia because of your failure to write…" He leaned down and kissed her forehead. "I will be forced to drag you both back to France to stay."

* * *

_Two months later…_

As promised, Erik had received word from Shiraz, Persia. Unfolding the letter, he read through its contents with a smile. His sister, it seemed, was doing well and apparently had taken up sculpting as a hobby. Unfortunately for Nadir, that meant having to haul various sizes of rock for her to use in her pastime. He laughed aloud thinking of his friend catering to the likes of his sister. _"Just when you thought you were rid of one Delacroix…"_

"Erik?" Christine interrupted his musings.

"Yes, mon ange?"

"Can you help me with these drapes?"

Setting the letter down on his lap, he called out to her. "I'll be right there. You'd better not be carrying those upstairs yourself."

"Oh no, Nicolas is bringing them up for me."

As her voice faded down the hall, Erik continued to read his letter from Nadir.

**_This will no doubt be of any surprise to you, but nonetheless I must inform you of it. It appears as though our old friend Jean has met a most untimely, and excruciatingly painful, demise. _**

**_According to an old friend, the Shah learned that a large amount of his secret funds had been diverted to an individual account in Bornu that he was not aware of. As you can imagine, he took this rather personally. He sent out a hundred men to seek out the truth of the situation and bring back the perpetrators of the crime. I'm told they stormed Faraj's old home and killed all within with the exception of Jean. Don't think for a moment he was spared however. He was beaten soundly, and his skin peeled off in many places before he talked. He told all he knew about his former master and his associates, including the Comte. It was, however deemed to be all lies. Consequently he was sentenced to be taken back to Persia for judgment... by a rope around his body, dragged along the ground behind several sturdy horses._**

**_Sadly, he did not survive the trip. Truly an incredible loss, is it not?_**

_**My contact will be arriving later in the week to discuss the happenings of Kukawa further. If there is anything more to be shared, I, of course, will send word to you.**_

_**I hope this finds you and Christine both in good health. You are never far from our thoughts, believe me. We hope to get the chance to visit soon, my old friend. Until then, our prayers go with you.**_

_**-Nadir and Alhena **_

* * *

The curtains were hung in the nursery, and it was almost ready to be graced by the little one's appearance, though that was still a few months away yet. Erik had plenty of time to finish the bassinet before then. He had been hand carving the mahogany wood to perfection, and now it was just about done. It would need a few more weeks of sanding and then prepping it for comfort. 

Christine was lying in bed, cuddled up with a book when Erik entered the room. He undressed and got into bed next to her, caressing her stomach as he always did before falling asleep. Tonight he had something to ask her before then.

"Have you decided on a name yet, mon ange?" He asked quietly.

"I've been so busy with the nursery, I honestly hadn't thought about it yet. All we've been calling it is 'baby' over the course of my pregnancy and I guess I've just gotten used to it." She laughed, embarrassed.

"I guess that's fair enough. I've been concentrating on getting the bassinet aligned perfectly that I, too, hadn't thought about it," he admitted. "That is, until tonight."

"So, what did you come up with?" She wondered.

"It'll be a girl, as beautiful as you." He kissed her belly.

"And her name, since you're so sure, Monsieur Delacroix," she asked sarcastically.

His palm flat against her stomach, he smiled and gazed in amazement at it. "Simple. She would be my little kitten. I would call her Caitlin."

Christine thought about the name for a moment and then smiled. "I do fancy the name. Caitlin…" she said, testing it upon her own lips. "Caitlin it is then."

"I thought you'd see it my way." He winked.

"Erik…"

"Yes?" He replied.

"If it's a boy."

Realizing what she meant, he scrunched up his face in distaste. "What? No, I won't doom my child to be teased as a junior. And besides, it _will_ be a girl. Trust me, I know these things."

"And how do you know these things?" She looked at him, disbelief apparent on her features.

He shrugged. "I simply do. And I'm right… oh, about half of the time." He teased at her, his hands poking about her body.

She stopped his tickling hands in hers and held them tight. "But _if_ it's a boy…"

"We're not naming him after me. There is to be only one Erik in this house and that's me." He growled playfully, pulling her close as the night descended upon them.

* * *

**Author's Note**  
The Countdown Now Reads: "3 Chapters Left!" 

**Disclaimer**  
I am not affiliated, nor do I own the rights to Franz Schubert's "Ave Maria" and Giuseppe Verdi's "La Traviata."


	38. Chapter 38

**CHAPTER 38**

The view from the nursery was nothing short of spectacular. All of the roses out in the garden were in full bloom, their heady, aromatic scent rising on the gentle afternoon breeze. Erik paused from his sanding work to appreciate the moment, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. He stared out across the open French doors of the balcony and smiled at the vision beyond him. Seven months into her pregnancy, Christine waddled about the bushes, picking a mixed bouquet of flowers.

Erik stood up from the floor, brushing his dusty hands off against his work trousers. He walked out onto the balcony, raising a hand to his forehead to shield the sun from his eyes. "Mon ange, you are the most beautiful rose amongst them all." He called, just loud enough for her to hear.

Christine brought her free hand to her back, the other carrying several long stems. "Hardly." She let out a breath. "Look at me. I'm like a giant pumpkin amongst these." She waved her bouquet about the rose bushes.

Erik chuckled to himself, not because it was true, but because of how adorable she was to him when she complained of her size. She was undeniably quite round, but that was to be expected this late into her pregnancy.

"Are you laughing? I'm so glad you find me so amusing. You have no idea what this," she pouted, tapping the roses against her belly to accentuate her point, "does to me."

Erik smiled down at her. "Christine, really…you are positively stunning. Think of it as more for me to love."

"So I'm fat? Is that what you're telling me?" She protested.

"Absolutely not. I said no such thing."

"Well you might as well. I am fat. I'm enormous!" Her head slumped and she began to cry. "And…and…my feet hurt!" She stuttered between shuddering breaths.

Erik cursed to himself, racing through the nursery and to the master suite next door. Through the mirror, he fled down the tower staircase and into the garden below.

She was still crying when she felt the hand upon her shoulder. "Christine…" Erik took the bouquet from her grasp and then wrapped his arms around her. "Shhh, everything will be alright."

"That's easy…for you…to say." She sniffled. "You're not the one that looks like a giant balloon."

"It won't be much longer, mon ange. All of this will not matter once you give birth and lay your eyes upon the miracle you've brought into the world." He kissed the top of her curls lovingly.

She brushed her hand against her tear-covered cheek. "I suppose you are right."

Rubbing her back, he whispered soothingly. "You will be a wonderful mother to our daughter."

"Son." She smiled against his chest, grateful for his comforting touch.

"I'll allow you think that, mon amour. But only for today though." He teased.

"Madame Delacroix? Le Comtesse de Chagny has arrived." Nicolas called out from the stone terrace.

"Merci, Nicolas. I'll be right there." She wiped at her eyes a moment before breaking their embrace.

"I didn't know we were to expect company today." Erik looked down at his unkempt appearance.

"Not we, me." She winked at him.

He grinned mischievously. "Oh, I see. More gossiping and giggling today?"

"Don't be rude." She pinched his arm playfully.

"Madame, you will pay for that later." He arched his eyebrows, smirking at her actions.

"Put these in a vase for me, Angel." She kissed his cheek and scurried off toward the house.

Erik raised the bouquet before him and inhaled deeply, smiling as he watched her shuffle away through the garden.

* * *

Christine greeted Meg in the foyer and together they moved into the sitting room. Josette had served them tea, while they waited for lunch to be served on the terrace. They spoke of many things, the remarkable work Guifford was doing on the sets at the opera house, and of the current play to be held in the coming months. 

"You must have a pretty good excuse for refusing the lead," Christine remarked, sipping her tea slowly.

"I did. At least, I…" Meg paused, thinking back on the conversation she had with Raoul.

Christine placed her hand atop Meg's own. "It's nothing terrible, is it?"

"I am not quite sure how to feel about it, really," she sighed.

Puzzled, Christine asked. "About what?"

"Raoul is finally taking me on our honeymoon. He cleared all the business that had been neglected while we were in Africa and we'll be leaving this weekend."

"That's wonderful, Meg!"

"Yes, I guess."

"Well, isn't it?" Christine wondered what was bothering her friend in light of such wonderful news.

"We'll be in Toscane for two weeks." Meg replied softly. "But when we return from Italy, he is to be shipped off to Cochinchine."

"The South of Asia?" Christine exclaimed. "What on earth for?"

Shaking her head, the little blonde girl continued. "He could only tell me that it was military business…an expedition of sorts. He doesn't know how long he'll be gone for or when he'll be able to return." Meg sighed heavily.

"It's no wonder you cannot be excited for your honeymoon," Christine sympathized. "I would not want it to end either, if I knew Erik was leaving me immediately after."

"Oui. How am I to concentrate on being happy and enjoying my husband's company, if all I will be thinking about is what happens after?"

Adele came into the room and announced their meal was prepared, interrupting their conversation. They moved out onto the terrace and continued their chat over lunch. Christine did her best to calm the blonde Giry's fears as they ate, telling her there was not much she could do but be supportive of Raoul. Meg knew there was always the possibility of her husband being called to duty again someday, but she hadn't expected it to be so soon.

After a time, Christine spoke up. "I know this may not be my place to say, but perhaps you should think about traveling somewhere local instead. You could spend the extra time it would take to journey elsewhere, together. I know it won't change the fact he'll be leaving, but at least it is something."

Meg's eyes brightened at the suggestion. "You're right, mon ami! I will talk to him about it as soon as a get home!"

"Talk to me about what?" A new voice called out, as Raoul stepped past the double-beveled glass doors and onto the terrace.

"Raoul," Meg stood up from her seat, "what are you doing here?"

"Bonjour, Christine." Raoul bowed as she waved from her chair. He approached them and gave his wife a swift but meaningful kiss. "I traded places with Francois and so, here I am," he grinned. "If you are ready, I've come to take you home, mon chéri."

"Christine?" Meg turned to her friend.

Christine braced her hands onto the arms of the cast iron chair and stood up. "Go on, Meg." She took a breath and placed a hand against her stomach. "You have much to discuss with Raoul." She smiled at both of them. "Now if you'll excuse me, I must get some rest."

"Would you like some help upstairs, Lotte?" Raoul asked, his arm wrapped around Meg's shoulders.

"No, I'll be fine. I…" She struggled to bring her awkward body upright.

"Another guest I should _not_ have been expecting, mon ange?" Erik called out playfully from the balcony of the nursery. He had stepped into view, still somewhat disheveled from the work he had resumed on the bassinet. Sweat glistened on his chest despite the cool afternoon air, but he had taken the time to place his mask on before checking on their visitors.

"Bonjour, Monsieur Delacroix." Raoul bowed accordingly.

"de Chagny," Erik greeted him quietly, nodding formally at his one-time rival.

"I must apologize for my unannounced visit. The ladies were not expecting my arrival. I…"

From behind the de Chagny couple, Erik noticed his wife, partly doubled over, one hand braced upon the garden table and the other pressed against her stomach.

"Christine!" Erik tossed aside the rag he was using to wipe off his dust-covered hands and hurried downstairs toward the terrace.

"Mon dieu! What is wrong?" Meg hurried to Christine's side.

"Meg, get her to the fainting couch. I'll send for Dr. Gilles." Raoul swiftly alerted Nicolas and Victor to the news of their ailing mistress and then hurried down the front steps of the House of Roses.

"What's wrong? Is she ill? Are you ill, Christine?" Erik spoke hurriedly as he moved opposite of Meg, together easing her onto the fainting couch.

Taking several long breaths, Christine waved both of them off. "I'm fine. The baby just kicked rather hard and I wasn't expecting to suddenly lose my breath as I did."

"You feel warm." Erik held his hand against her flushed cheeks. "Nicolas, bring a pitcher of water and a cool cloth!" He yelled from across the room.

"Christine, try to relax. Raoul will be back soon with the doctor." Meg held her hand gently.

"Really, you two need not fuss over me." Christine attempted to get up.

"You will remain upon this couch until the doctor arrives." Erik commanded. "Your health is very important during these last few months. I won't let your stubbornness interfere in this matter."

"But Erik…"

"No!" Erik told her, his voice full of concern. "I will bring you upstairs only _after_ you've been examined."

Christine sighed in frustration and tossed her head back against the small cushion.

* * *

_Two weeks later…_

Doctor Gilles had given Christine a clean bill of health, prescribing only that she limit the amount of activities she would normally have. He expressed that it was important that she kept herself rested and suggested that Erik move her to a room downstairs to prevent her from overexerting herself by taking the stairs to the master suite.

Taking every precaution necessary, Erik did as the doctor ordered, and even insisted that one of the servants be at her side night and day temporarily. He would make arrangements with Madame Giry soon, requesting that the older woman sit in with his wife, until the birth of the baby.

There was not much Christine could say or do to keep the others from waiting on her hand and foot. She felt bad for all the attention and didn't wish to have anyone go out of their way for her. Erik however, would have it no other way. In this respect he could be almost blindly unreasonable, continually telling her that it was for the good of the child, knowing that it usually calmed her moods.

With Christine fast asleep downstairs, Erik sat in the nursery repairing the music box that had been recovered amongst Amala's belongings at the Sultan's palace. He had finally been able to change the tiny catch within, which allowed for the music to play. Although he had needed to dismantle each individual piece, he found the project to be worthwhile. The work eased the anxiety that had been unrelenting within him since the episode she'd had a couple of weeks ago. These quiet hours gave him a chance to concentrate on something else other than worrying about Christine every few minutes.

He stood up from the floor and walked over to the small table beside the yet unfinished bassinet. Placing the wooden box down, he turned the arm and lifted the top to let the music flow through the nursery. The candlelight flickered and danced, seemingly in time with the notes. He stepped out onto the balcony and closed his eyes, the moon's light bathing him in a shimmering embrace. He somehow remembered this melody, and yet this was the first time he was hearing it clearly. This was the distant tune which lay within his mind incomplete, haunting him for the whole of his life. He had never been able to place it, thinking it had only been some chiming motif that had no distinguishable ending. Now he could finish it, silently humming along with it, as his body was awash in the passing evening breeze.

A gentle tear in one eye, he thought to himself._ "Now I am able to give my child something of my own…a single piece of my childhood that I can fondly recall of." _

* * *

_Elsewhere…_

Nadir sat by the fire, staring into the flames, lost in contemplation. In his hands, he held onto a worn binder that had seen one too many hands over the years. Now it was resting in his. He thought it strange that Allah had always seemed to make him a messenger of sorts. When he had been the Daroga of Mazanderan, it was his job to know everything about a man and those around him. Sometimes that worked out well, if he needed to know the secrets of his enemies. When that information pertained to those he called friends however, he was unsure of what to think. A moral dilemma to be sure, he was uncertain whether he should make his knowledge known to the person in question.

"Can you not sleep either?" Alhena interrupted him, carrying a small tray of tea into the room.

He reached up and took the tray from her, placing it beside him on the floor. "I apologize if I've disturbed you."

Alhena took a seat beside him and grabbed the tongs, turning the logs in the fireplace. "Disturb me? Here in your utter silence?" She laughed, looking back at him with her jade eyes. "I was beginning to wonder if you'd fallen asleep sitting up that way."

Nadir filled both teacups and then handed her one. "Fires such as this were usually held outdoors beneath the tranquil evening skies here in Persia." He recalled, holding his teacup within his hands and rolling it back and forth ever so gently. He allowed his thoughts to wander on those times. "Many nights I would stare into the flames endlessly. Sometimes they were shared in the company of your brother, and other nights with those that worked under me during my service to the Shah."

Though Alhena trusted the man beside her without question, there was still much she had yet to know about Nadir. She noticed the leather binder that sat upon his lap, given to him a few nights ago by a loyal childhood friend that worked amongst the Shah's personal guard. She had overheard the man refer to Nadir as his brother as he left, his sister apparently once married to the Persian. It was something he had not shared with her after all this time together, though she would not begin to pressure him into telling her about it. She would wait for him to offer such details freely, not provoke an argument that she clearly had no right to make. "So what will you do with that?" She asked, having been told earlier of the binder's contents.

"I'm not sure yet. I do not think now would be the best time to let something like this be known. For that matter, there may never be a good time." He sighed ruefully and set the binder down, wondering if it wouldn't be best just to toss it into the fire and be done with it. "After everything we've been through, this was something I rather wish I'd never known about."

"Will the matter really change who he is?"

"There's no way of knowing for sure, until he's told."

Alhena shrugged, the light from the fire shining against her long, lustrous hair. "I'm just wondering if it would make a difference whether you told him or not."

Nadir held his gaze upon the golden red embers that sparked amongst the firewood. "I will give it more thought and perhaps seek Erik's advice. Ultimately though, I think the young Comte has a right to know regardless."

"He is a strong man, Nadir. Should you tell him, he'll be able to bear it." Alhena moved closer to him, putting an arm around his shoulders.

The Persian nodded, quietly agreeing with her. "This may not destroy him, but others around him may not be so lucky."

Silently they sat before the fire, both lost within their thoughts. A trip back to France would be forthcoming, of that they were certain.

* * *

**Author's Note**  
Alright, I know I said I wouldn't be tossing these cryptic accounts into the story, being that we're at the end of this sequel. -From Thargrimm: She lied!- But given the circumstances, I think it's safe to say that there will be a trilogy incoming. It might not be done immediately as I will try to work it in with my original projects that I have slated for self-publishing. Since the matter in question does involve Raoul this time around, I figured it wouldn't be too pressing of a need to find out what it is regarding. Eventually though, it will evolve in a way that includes everyone, naturally. 

I wanted to wish everyone a safe and happy holiday. Whether you celebrate Christmas, Chanukah, Kwanza, Yule, or the like, may it be festive and joyous.

The final installments for "Truth Be Told" will not be as long as my previous entries, as you can begin to see already, but I do hope you all enjoy them regardless. Also, there may be a delay in posting, due to the holidays, but I will do my best to get them uploaded as soon as possible.

The Countdown Now Reads: "2 Chapters Left!"


	39. Chapter 39

**CHAPTER 39**

Darius slid off of his mount, handing the reins to Victor and making his approach toward The House of Roses. Having stayed behind in France at the insistence of his master, he had spent most of his time in Guifford's company. With the Frenchman living just a few blocks from Nadir's flat on the Rue de Rivoli, they were rapidly becoming good friends. The big man had a friendly way about him, making it easy for others to approach him comfortably.

Walking along the stone path, Darius thought back to last week. Erik had visited him one afternoon to say goodbye to Valente, who had been staying with him after returning from Africa. The Italian was finally headed back to his home in Italy, and they made sure to escort him to the train depot to see him off properly.

"All aboard!" The conductor announced, catching the attention of awaiting passengers.

Valente had turned to Erik and invited him and his family to his home before boarding the train. It was the same offer he had given Darius earlier in the day as he packed for his trip. "Erik!" He had called out from the window where he sat. "You must bring il bambino too!" He then waved as the train pulled away from the station.

The thought made Darius smile as he walked up the front steps of Erik's home. _"I do miss you, Ramunni."_ He thought of the investigator and how he had grown accustomed to him over the months they had shared together.

Nicolas met him at the door, bringing him upstairs to the nursery to meet with his master.

As both men stepped into the room, Erik looked up from the final touches he was making to the bassinet. Setting down his engraving tools, he rose and greeted both men with a smile.

"That's coming together nicely." Darius spoke up, eyeing the work. "Your wife surely must be pleased."

"She hasn't see it yet, but she will in due time." Erik walked over to him and shook his hand firmly. "I had a strange feeling you'd be visiting me today."

"Monsieur Delacroix? Shall I have some tea brought up?" Nicolas asked him from the doorway.

Erik looked at Darius, leaving the decision up to him. "Care to join me for a drink?"

"Would I be out of line if I asked for something stronger?" Darius chuckled.

Erik laughed, turning to Nicolas. "Bring the eau de vie de cidre out to the terrace." He then clapped his hand against Darius's back and guided him toward the back of the estate.

Both men sat outside savoring their glasses of apple brandy, enjoying the serenity of the garden and talking of their various travels.

"This was a good idea, Darius." Erik raised his glass to the man and took another sip.

"Mmm," Darius swallowed the light aromatic liquor. "I must thank you for this." His glass was refilled by his masked companion as he placed the empty container upon the table. "It's most delightful."

"Bouquets as delicate as this can be dated as far back as the days of Charlemagne." Erik mused, swishing the liquid around in the glass.

"I'll concede that your knowledge of such things is far more accountable than my own." Darius laughed at his own ignorance. "The master always spoke highly of you in that respect."

"I find that hard to believe coming from the Daroga," Erik scoffed teasingly.

"In all honesty, sir, I find it hard to believe myself," Darius said simply.

After a brief moment of silence, they both began to laugh aloud.

"Speaking of that old Persian devil, have you heard from him?"

Darius shook his head. "Not since his last inquiry on the transport of his Arabian, which I must thank you again, for keeping in your stable yard."

He waived it off. "It's quite alright. Atreus and Thyestes have been together for the whole of their existence, almost comparable to the relationship Nadir and I share. They're very content here."

"Did the Italian arrive safely?" Darius asked, filling his glass once more.

Erik sat forward and reached for the liquor bottle. "He did. I received a message from him yesterday. He hadn't realized just how much he'd missed his place of birth. Hopefully I will be hearing more from him again soon."

"Everything is as it should be, isn't it sir?" Darius settled his glass between his hands, smiling in contentment as he stared out across the garden.

"Indeed it is." Erik drained his glass and leaned against the back of the chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him lazily.

"I must confess, your estate is magnificent. Would you be so kind as to show me around?" Darius asked boldly.

Erik stood up and gestured for him to follow. "Of course, my good man."

The two men descended into the garden, continuing to discuss the events of the last few months.

* * *

Christine sat in a rocking chair that she had requested be moved from a guest room in the west wing. She rocked impatiently, wanting desperately to flee out into the garden and enjoy the afternoon sun upon her skin. Though no matter how much she wanted to, no one in the house would allow it, especially not Madame Giry. She had arrived a week after Christine's episode and since then she had ever the watchful eye over her. 

"But I wouldn't be long. Just a few minutes," she pleaded with the older woman.

"Tsk tsk, chéri. You know Erik would be sorely disappointed if you disobeyed his wishes."

Christine sighed. "I've been in here for a month, and I should consider myself lucky for only being allowed to access the dining hall?"

"The doctor was very adamant about your need for rest."

Christine stood up in haste clumsily. "I should know if I'm feeling better. And I am!" She placed her hand upon her belly and walked over to the open window. "I'll go crazy if I remain indoors much longer." She could hear laughter in the distance as she watched a pair of crows fly across the sky, their black wings extended upon the currents beneath them. She then felt a small set of hands upon her shoulders.

"It won't be much longer. Soon, you…"

"S'il vous plaît, Madame Giry!" Christine snapped. "I get enough of that from my husband."

Madame Giry knew how frustrated Christine was. She raised her hands and backed away, deciding to say nothing and allow the young woman some privacy while she sorted out her feelings.

Christine was unaware Madame Giry had left the room. By the time she got over her fit of pique and had the good sense to apologize for her outburst, she turned and found herself all alone. Walking over to the door she cracked it open and peered out across the hall. It seemed to be relatively quiet, and more importantly, free from anyone who'd stop her before she made it out into the rose garden. "Would you like to go outside, my darling son?" She rubbed at her stomach as she felt the baby move within her, almost in an excited response. "I thought you might." She smiled, and then slipped into the hall.

She ducked around the corner as she heard a pair of servants walking across the floor opposite of her. She pressed herself against the wall as best she could, covering her mouth as the baby kicked hard, causing her to wince. As the servants passed, leaving her alone once more, she lowered her hand back to her stomach. "Honestly… I think you want to go outside more than I do," she whispered, and then moved back across the hallway. She hurried as best she could, finally spotting the double doors to the terrace. She smiled happily and soon enough, to her surprise, she finally found herself upon the stone terrace. The garden was in full bloom before her, a few yards away from where she stood.

Descending the steps to reach the grounds, she didn't notice Erik and Darius coming up from around the side of the home. Their talking ceased as she came into view.

"Christine!" Erik called out in surprise, the slight tone of his disapproval hinting in the air between them.

She scrunched her face, knowing she had been caught. She turned her head to see Erik hurrying across the grass with Darius following closely behind him. Lowering her eyes in embarrassment, she waited for the impending rebuke.

"What are you doing out here? Where is Annette? Why aren't you in your room?" His questions were rushed as he came to her side in a flash.

"Erik really, this is unnecessary. Just let me enjoy a few moments of sunlight," she begged as he turned her back toward the direction of the house.

"You appear to be quite flushed already. What did you do? Run out here?"

Darius came around her other side and took hold of her arm as Erik did, both trying to move her inside.

"Five more minutes, mon amour. That's all I ask." She used her weight to her advantage, planting her feet firmly in place and leaning back against their insistent movements forward.

"I'm capable of carrying you if need be, mon ange." Erik smirked. "Don't make this any more difficult on yourself."

She wriggled out of his grasp and took a step back. "No! I'm tired of everyone watching over me like I'm some fragile statue made of glass. Heaven forbid the master of the house find me mishandled and let loose his vengeance upon his servants!" She angrily snapped.

Darius looked at the couple as they eyed one another defiantly. "I'll just uh... be inside if you should need me." He stepped a few feet backward and disappeared into the house.

The two stared at each other for several long moments before Erik finally spoke. "I have every right to make sure you're taken care of, especially now."

"Oh, don't start, Erik." She turned away from him, rolling her eyes. "Spare me the dramatics, if you please."

"It needs to be said. You're obviously thinking quite irrationally, Madame!"

"Am I? I suppose you think I'm being driven mad by this!" She displayed her stomach with both hands.

"Christine you're a month away…"

She balled her first and shook them in the air. "For God's sake! If I hear that one more time, I'll…" her eyes widened suddenly as she found herself struggling for air.

"We're not arguing about this right now. I'm getting you inside and…" He suddenly noticed the uncomfortable look upon his wife's face.

Her jaw dropped, a low groan emitting forth as she felt a sharp stab within her belly.

"Christine?"

She began to breathe again. Gasping heavily, she gripped at her stomach with both hands.

"Christine!" Erik rushed to support her, lowering himself to meet her face. "What is it?" He tried to help her stand upright, but she pushed him away.

"I'll be fine, I…I…" As she attempted to get upright, she doubled over again, this time in more pain. The intensity of it shocked and frightened her. "Oh… dear God!" She held tight to Erik, short of breath.

"Darius!" He called out frantically hoping the man could hear him. "Send for the doctor! NOW!"

Darius turned from the painting he'd been staring at idly and rushed back outside. His eyes widened as he witnessed Christine across the lawn, hand clenched upon Erik's shirt, pulling at it. "I'm on it!" He darted into the house, running hell-bent through the structure, and finally bursting out the front doors and toward his waiting horse.

"This can't be…it's…it's too soon…" The pain was excruciating. She felt as if any minute she would pass out from it.

"I must get you indoors." He tried to calm his voice, but he was as panicked as she was.

She mumbled as he swept her up into his arms. "It's too soon…the baby…Erik, I'm scared…"

Christine was not due to deliver. Not now. Not yet. She was still a few days shy of a month away at this point. They all knew this.

As he rushed down the hall with her, Madame Giry came racing down the opposite end. "What has happened?" The older woman cried out as she saw them approach.

Reaching her room, Erik turned his back against the door and forced it open as Christine lay trembling within his arm. "Get some clean towels, and a basin of hot water." He stepped into the room without another word.

Madame Giry crossed herself wordlessly and then moved back into the hall to gather the items he'd asked of her.

Erik placed Christine onto the bed carefully. He sat down beside her, holding her hand and stroking her hair desperately. "Everything will be alright, mon ange. Darius will be back with the doctor soon."

"I can't give birth now." Her eyes filled with hot tears. "Something's wrong with the baby!" She began to cry.

"Shhh, try to relax, Christine." He brushed her hair back away from her face and kissed her forehead. "The baby's fine. You just need to rest."

"The baby is coming, Erik." She wrapped her arms around him and cried. "My water broke when we were outside."

"Are you sure?" He searched her face wildly.

"This is my fault. I've somehow harmed our child, I just know it. I'm so sorry, Erik!"

"Don't say that." He tried to calm his own fears. His guilt for raising his voice to her could only have added to her stress.

"If I just listened to you in the first place, this wouldn't be happening. You were just trying to protect the baby. I…" She let out a moan as the baby pushed inside of her.

"_Damn it, where is that doctor!"_ His mind screamed as he caressed her worried face.

Madame Giry entered moments later. "I've brought the towels. Adele is behind me with the basin."

"I can't do this, Erik…I can't!" She screamed against the intrusive pain.

"Annette, help me with her clothes," Erik asked shakily. "Adele, get me something sharp."

"Erik? What are you planning to do?" Madame Giry asked as she helped him with Christine's dress.

"I'll deliver this baby if I have to," he replied grimly.

"Mon dieu! Erik you can't. You don't know…"

"I know enough," he snarled, hating this feeling of helplessness. "But I'll need your help."

Knowing that he may very well need to deliver the baby before the doctor arrived, she nodded her head curtly without further protest.

He stared at his unsteady hands. "I'll need to wash up."

"Go." Madame Giry placed her hand upon his shoulder firmly. "Adele and I will sit with her."

"Angel, don't leave me!" Christine begged hysterically as he turned to leave.

"Christine, I…" The pull against his heart prevented him from saying anything comforting to her.

"Go now and hurry back, mon ami." Madame Giry pressed a cool cloth against Christine's head. "She will need you soon."

As he turned away, Christine yelled after him. It was hard for him to leave her side, but he had no choice. He had to prepare himself to deliver his own child into the world. _"Why must you always make things difficult for me, God?"_ As he ran down the hall, he turned a corner and bumped into Darius, the movements sending both men sprawling to the floor.

"Where the hell is…" Without finishing his sentence, he spotted Dr. Gilles coming in through the front door, medical bag in hand. "Thank you, Darius!" He said, climbing to his feet in haste as he waved the doctor over in a frenzy.

"I was on my way over to check up on your wife when Darius flagged me down from his mount. Fortunately I was not too far from…"

"The baby…" Erik interrupted him as they traveled down the hall. "Christine's in labor."

His look of surprise was genuine as he adjusted the glasses upon his face. "Already? But that's impossible."

Erik grabbed him about the shoulders. "The membrane has ruptured and she's having contractions. Please, we must hurry."

"Good Lord… Where is she?"

"Here." Erik placed his hand flat against the middle of the bedroom door and pushed it open, allowing the doctor to enter first before stepping in behind him.

"What can I do?" Darius asked nervously.

"Wait out here and pray." Erik answered him softly, not taking his eyes off of his wife's writhing form. "If I call on you, be sure you are close enough to hear me."

As Darius stepped into the hall, Erik closed the door and took Madame Giry's place at Christine's side.

"Erik, if anything happens to the baby…" Christine sobbed through her tears.

He held her hand tenderly, all of his love pouring into her in that simple gesture. "It won't, mon ange."

"It's unbelievable. She's already fully dilated." The doctor looked up from his position. "Madame Giry, you and the young miss will keep Christine steady while she pushes. Erik, I need you to bring me the basin and towels. When I need the implements from my bag, you will hand them to me_ immediately_."

Erik tried to calm his mind as Christine screamed in agony. He wished so much to take away the pain she was enduring. She was so frail, yet unbelievably strong to be going through the delivery. In all his travels and experiences, he'd never been able to fathom the miracle of childbirth. It had been so foreign to him. To create life and carry it inside of you, protecting it from all the evil in the world. There could be no higher calling than that.

The doctor gave her various instructions as he carefully examined her progress. Erik felt a slight flash of jealousy as he watched another man crouched between her legs. His mind immediately laughed at the absurdity of the thought however. It was just his overwhelming love toying with his emotions. It took him a few moments to realize he was suddenly seeing something happening. He smiled proudly as the baby's head became visible.

"Christine, I see her," he said in awe.

"Him!" She growled, pushing with the doctor's instructions.

Adele smiled and dabbed at Christine's sweaty forehead with a cool rag. Madame Giry held her shoulders steady as she bore down once again, grunting with the extreme effort.

As soon as the head had passed, Dr. Gilles gently pressed against her abdomen, helping the shoulders pass free. A few moments later, the rest of the body came into view, and with a final push, baby Caitlin was brought into the world. As the doctor swabbed at her nose and her mouth, her tiny hands and feet began shaking in time with her cries.

"It's a girl!" The doctor announced formally. He continued preparing her for viewing, tying off her umbilical cord and wiping her clean.

Erik's heart swelled with relief. She was smaller than normal, but appeared healthy.

Adele and Madame Giry both whispered their congratulations to Christine, who cried fresh tears of relief.

Dr. Gilles proudly handed her to Erik, wrapped snuggly in one of the clean cloths. "She's beautiful." He whispered softly, stifling back the tears of joy. "I told you she would be a girl, mon ange." He grinned happily as he walked beside the bed, his eyes never leaving the precious face of his daughter. "She's absolutely perfect, Christine. She's as angelic as..." As he sat beside her on the bed, he raised his gaze from Caitlin's face and beamed a smile toward Christine. It suddenly began to fade as he saw her expression. "Christine?"

Her face was pale, the color drawn almost completely, save for the faintest pink hue in her cheeks.

"Christine, can you hear me? Wake up, mon amour." He wished for her to see the miracle they'd created together.

Her head lulled about wearily, her eyes struggling to meet his face. Unable to focus her gaze, she slumped back against the pillows weakly.

"What's wrong? Doctor, what's happening?" Erik raised his voice worriedly.

"This is not right," Dr. Gilles said with concern, reaching out to grab her arm. He felt her fluttering pulse against the pressure of his fingertips.

"What's not right?" Erik demanded of him.

The doctor reached a free hand up to feel at the pulse upon her neck. "Madame Giry, please move him and the child into the hall and stay with him. I'll keep her here with me." He nodded his head over at Adele.

"I'm not leaving my wife! I demand to know what you think is wrong with her. If you've harmed her… if you… I'll…" He struggled against the older woman's insistent pull, careful not to lose the hold on his infant daughter.

"Erik, we must let Dr. Gilles do what he must for her. Come, let us take Caitlin outside and show her to the others."

"You take her, Annette. I won't leave Christine." His eyes showed his concern for his wife, lying as pale as if she were at death's door.

"We can wait together, just outside." Madame Giry placed her hand against his back. "Do this for Christine, mon ami. Your baby needs you right now."

Erik looked back at his wife and then down to the life he held within his arms, a child born of their improbable, yet remarkable love.

"If…if Christine…if she…" He could not continue.

"Let's leave the doctor to his work," Madame Giry said calmly, not wishing to acknowledge what Erik was attempting to say. She would not let her own fears become his.

* * *

**Author's Note**  
Now you know why I didn't want to post this prior to the holiday break I took. I know you all must want to throw stones at me for this nasty cliffhanger, but it had to be done. The final installment will explain why. I hope all my readers had a wonderful winter break and I wish you all a happy and healthy 2007! Almost a year ago, I'd published this sequel, and now it's finally coming to an end. On a happier note, there will be a trilogy coming. Over the holidays, I had a chance to come up with that title. It will be called: "Turning of the Tide." I'll also be re-writing my first Phantom story "To Be Held" in the process of uploading trilogy chapters. Hopefully it'll give my readers something to do between downtimes. It's been so great to be able to enhance my writing style over the past two stories, and I'm hoping the third will be my best attempt yet. Hopefully I'll be able to bring you all with me on this journey of mine. 

The finale next week!


	40. Chapter 40

**Notice To My Readers**  
I haven't been getting any of my alerts for reviews via FFN, and what I have been getting are weeks olds. This has been going on since around Thanksgiving (if you're also an author of this site, you know what I'm talking about). I've been responding to each of you by checking the site itself. There have been really bad delays with sending/receiving any messages via email, so I thought I'd let everyone know. I've been meaning to mention this a few chapters ago, but it seemed to always slip my mind. Sorry about that. My apologies if it appeared I had neglected to reply or if I missed anyone in the process of this site going through its issues. It does seem that my inbox has been pushed though, so I think this may or may not be an issue anymore. We shall see with your reviews of this final chapter.

On with the finale…

**CHAPTER 40**

As Erik stepped into the hall, Caitlin began to cry loudly in his arms, as if she felt her father's sudden distress. Truth be told, he wished to do the same alongside her. He cradled her close to him, covering the tiny arm that had wiggled its way out from underneath the cloth of the makeshift blanket.

"You promise to wait here while I send for Nicolas to bring us a set of chairs?" Madame Giry asked him, concern for his flustered state of mind apparent.

He didn't reply. His thoughts distant, he simply cooed as he rocked his newborn baby girl gently.

The older woman looked on with a heavy heart, assuming his silence gave her consent for her request. "I'll send for her bassinet as well." She quietly added, seeing he was oblivious to her words.

Merely nodding, he continued his fatherly efforts with Caitlin. She was still fussy, having been brought so rudely into this bright and scary world minutes before. Her tiny cries were penetrating, but after a time, she began to settle down in the gentle rocking motions of her father's hold.

Erik sighed as the tiny figure he carried began to grow quiet. He leaned back against the wall and let himself glide down to meet the floor. Despite this exquisite moment, too many emotions railed within him. The joy of his daughter's birth was currently overshadowed by his worry about Christine's current condition.

He stared at Caitlin awhile as she began to fall asleep, lovingly caressing her pink cheek. He still could not believe such a miracle was before him, a life he would have to nurture and protect for many years to come. "You have your mother's looks, my little kitten." he whispered softly. He found himself suddenly unable to choke back the tears he'd been holding in before, tears of joy, anguish, and fear. "I cannot do this alone, mon ange…" He pleaded to any god who might be listening.

"You are not alone, Erik." Madame Giry knelt down and placed her hand upon his shoulder to comfort him. She'd returned a minute earlier, but hadn't wanted to intrude any more than necessary on the private scene. She could only hope that now her own supportive spirit would aid that of her tortured friend's.

Nicolas and Josette were not far behind, carrying chairs and placing them on either side of the door. Both had concerned looks on their faces as their eyes darted back and forth from Erik's trembling figure, to the baby he held.

"Victor is bringing the bassinet from…" A piercing shriek from within the bedroom cut Madame Giry off. She quickly rose to her feet and held out her hands, preventing Nicolas and Josette from coming closer.

Bracing his back against the wall, Erik immediately brought himself standing again. "Take the baby."

"But Erik, we're supposed to…"

"Take the baby, Annette!" He yelled frantically.

Caitlin began to cry anew as another scream wailed from within the room, waking the young girl from her first dreams in her new life.

Christine's howling rang within Erik's ears. The mere thought that the doctor could be causing such irrepressible anguish was enough to drive him mad. "He's hurting her! If I don't go in there this instant, I'll…"

The door to the room opened, a panicked Adele on the other side of it, her young face flushed. "Madame, you must come at once!"

"I'm going in!" Erik demanded over Caitlin's fierce cries, trying to hand off his child to the older woman.

"Erik, you _will _stay with your baby," Madame Giry ordered sharply. "You are her father, damn it all! I will see to Christine, I assure you."

His eyes desperate, for the first time in his life he truly felt helpless. "Annette, she's my wife! If she dies…" He bit his tongue, unable to continue the thought. He hadn't expected to voice his fears aloud, and he surely hadn't consciously entertained the notion seriously until now. Turning away from everyone, he lowered his head and held Caitlin close, rocking her nervously to calm his own fears as she continued to cry.

Madame Giry paused, knowing the man before her had more sorrow in his heart, than anyone else would know in several lifetimes. A new depth of sympathy welled up inside of her. She searched for any words to comfort him. "Erik, I..."

"Please hurry, Madame!" Adele waved her on, practically dragging her inside.

Tearing herself away, she took a moment and crossed herself, praying for another miracle. _"Dear Lord, give us all strength and grant this family some well deserved peace."_

* * *

_A long hour passed..._

Dr Gilles exited the room, mopping his brow with his handkerchief. "I can't believe that happened. It's just unbelievable." He muttered in a daze.

Erik thrust Caitlin into Josette's startled hands. He had stood by patiently long enough. He had questions for Dr. Gilles and he would have his answers. "What in the hell happened in there, doctor?" He demanded, grabbing the small man about the shoulders.

"I think you should go see for yourself, Monsieur." The doctor shook his head in disbelief. "In all my years of medicine, I cannot believe what has happened. I've done all I can here, and I must return home now."

"Don't you dare turn your back on me!" Erik roared as the man moved away.

The doctor spun around, the force of Erik's grip about his arm turning him to face the Phantom's angry gaze. There was surprisingly no fear in his eyes for Erik's deformity, only a quiet calmness. "Your wife should be your concern, Monsieur. You should thank God for..."

Erik stammered at the audacity of the words, not caring that his face lay naked to a man he'd only met for the second time now. His face twisted in outrage. "Thank him? That is the last thing I wish to do for a so-called _merciful _God. Especially one who seems to delight in watching me suffer endlessly!" He sneered. "So I ask you, what should I be thankful for?!"

The older man was appalled. "I will _not _stand here whilst you make a mockery of the good Lord. See to your wife now, for I've dallied in your presence much longer than I cared to. You shame me with your obvious distaste for Our Father." Dr. Gilles shook his head. "Good day, Monsieur!" He huffed, shrugging off Erik's hold and continuing down the hallway.

Watching him leave with a heart full of both anger and despair, he tugged on the handle of the bedroom door. Crossing the threshold, he saw Madame Giry holding onto Christine's right hand, staring down at her still, unmoving form.

He sucked in a shuddered breath, drawing Madame Giry's attention away from the woman on the bed.

"Erik…" She began.

"Leave me!" The tears fresh in his eyes, he would not share his pain with anyone but his wife at this time.

"Mon ami, you don't…"

"I will not ask again, Annette!" He growled. "Choose to ignore me and I shall not be held accountable for my actions!"

She rushed passed him. There was nothing she could say to make him understand what had taken place. He would have to see for himself.

As the door shut behind him, Erik fell back heavily against it, his whole world closing in around him. How was he to go on without the mother of his children? The thought of her warm touch upon him, that tender laugh that would always make him smile, and the unconditional love she had given him when he had thought such a thing could never be his…now she was gone.

He crushed his hands to his face and began to weep brokenly. To look upon her now would kill him. He didn't wish to remember her in this way, nor admit she had passed into the next life without him. He was alone now and would never hear her divine voice, for now it belonged to the heavens…

* * *

_An hour earlier..._

"I can't…I can't anymore…" Christine breathed heavily. Her small frame drenched with sweat, she struggled to grasp that her ordeal was not over yet.

In her years at the Opera house, she'd overheard many of the women discuss childbirth. She had always listened in rapt fascination as they talked about the intricacies involved in the process. Although their descriptions were often crude or vulgar, they had all admitted to great relief once the child was delivered. There was never any talk of continuing pain and exertion. She could only assume there was something terribly wrong inside of her. Part of her mind began to pray for an end to the torment she was feeling. It erupted as yet another primal scream as she struggled with the sheer agony she endured within her writhing body.

Annette stared at Dr. Gilles as he moved his hands cautiously between Christine's legs.

"Madame, take her hand," Adele suggested as she flew around the other side of the bed to do the same.

"What is going on here?" She asked, bewildered at what she was seeing.

Without looking up, the doctor replied. "I haven't time to explain it, Madame. Just take her hand and make sure she remains calm. I need her to focus on the task at hand."

Madame Giry moved to Christine's side and took her hand, stroking it in attempts to sooth her discomfort. Adele held fast to the other and wiped the sweat from the mother's brow.

"Are you to perform surgery? With no anesthesia?" Madame Giry balked at the notion.

"Non," he replied, shaking his head. "I cannot administer anything just yet. She needs to be coherent during the process." He reached for his medical bag, bringing it closer to him. "It has been some time since I've seen this." The old man riffled through his bag. "In fact, in my entire career, this has only ever happened to me once."

Madame Giry was thankful Erik was not in the room. With the man's way of not getting to the point, she herself was close to strangling him with her own two hands. "Doctor… please, get to the point of the matter," she snapped impatiently.

"She's in labor again." The doctor muttered as he found the instrument he was looking for. A pair of forceps shined in the dim lamplight of the bedroom.

"I _beg _your pardon?"

Christine moaned, confusion making her almost incoherent. "I need to push!"

"No! This baby is breech, Christine. You must not push until I tell you too!" The doctor ordered her. Idly, he wiped his forehead with his sleeve and thought out his own silent prayer for mother and child.

"If I hold much longer I'll…I'll die!" Christine screamed as she squeezed painfully onto both Madame Giry and Adele's hands.

"Calm her, you two. This won't be any easier if she doesn't listen to me." Dr. Gilles asked of the two women. He stared intently at the developing birth of the second child.

"Christine, you _must_ listen to Dr. Gilles." Madame Giry implored the young woman.

Shaking her head against the pillow in defeat, Christine moaned. "I'm so tired… " She began to sob uncontrollably.

"You will get through this, chéri." She stared at her confidently, trying to make Christine believe in her words. Their eyes met for a brief instant, sharing strength between them.

"Fortunately, I do have some experience with this." The doctor laid his instruments to the side, waiting intently for the first sight of flesh to emerge. "Raoul de Chagny came into this word in much the same way."

All eyes were on Dr. Gilles as he mentioned Raoul. For a brief moment they all seemed to focus on that thought. Annette more than the others seemed shocked at the announcement.

"Yes, it's true. And I do believe le Comte turned out alright after all." The doctor chuckled softly. "Ok, take a deep breath and push once more for me."

Christine did as she was told, the insistent pressure inside of her not needing to be asked twice. She had held much longer than she cared for. With everything she possessed, she drew in a breath and screamed, pushing with all her might.

As the child's lower half came through, the doctor ordered her to stop. With all the caution in the world, he used the forceps to extend the feet of the newly appeared fetus, letting gravity and slight pressure pull the small body down and out. The torso slid into view and immediately the sex of the child was known to all. The doctor placed his hands upon the frail form and turned it slightly, freeing one tiny shoulder, then the other, from the mother's womb.

"One more push, my dear, and your second child shall make a very remarkable entrance, indeed." Dr. Gilles smiled as he saw the pinkish body emerging.

Christine bore down with all her might, and drew on the strength of her love for Erik. All that they had been through, all that they had endured leading up to this event. With a final surge, her body lunged upward and she pushed harder than anything she'd ever imagined, and suddenly the pressure was gone. There was no sensation at all. It was as if she was completely numb below the waist.

Whimpering weakly Christine cried. "My baby! It makes no sound. Oh God, is it stillborn?"

As the doctor handed the child off to Adele, he returned to the process of cleaning her up. "I assure you my dear, everything will be alright. You must know that your body has been through a severe trauma. It will take time to heal."

"You're not answering me!" She thrashed uncontrollably upon the bed, craning her neck to see Adele disappear into the bathroom with a small bundle. "Let me see my baby!"

Madame Giry tried to hold her down, without much success.

"Hold her!" The doctor barked. "I cannot stitch her up unless you do!"

Applying as much pressure as she dared, the older woman tried to force Christine back down. "It's no use, doctor! She's gone mad!"

"This cannot be...I cannot endure this." Christine sobbed, still bucking wildly in the bed. Her legs kicked out, knocking the glasses off Dr Gilles face.

He recovered a moment later, grabbing a bottle from his bag and tipping it slightly onto a clean bandage. "Here, Madame." Gritting his teeth, he handed the cloth to Madame Giry. "Press it against her nose for a few moments, s'il vous plaît."

As Christine struggled beneath her, Annette pressed the pungent solution over the young woman's face. A short instant later, the vapor emitted by the liquid rendered her immobile. Her movements ceased and she slumped back upon the bed in quiet rest.

"What on earth was that?" Madame Giry asked in wonder.

"Chloroform," the doctor answered simply, as he attended to Christine's distressed form. "It will at least give her a good rest, as I take care of the rest of the bleeding here."

Adele poked her head out of the side room. "The child appears to be healthy, doctor. As perfect a little angel as I'd ever wish to see. There was no crying at all as I bathed it."

"Excellent. Hold on, until I tell the father. I'm just about done here." With that, the doctor retrieved all of his instruments, as well as the pieces of bloody cloth that had fallen by the bedside.

* * *

"Angel…" An ethereal voice spoke. 

Erik seemed to hear her all around him, the faintest of ghostlike whispers. Still using the door to support him, he could not bear to approach her bedside. Too many feelings stormed and raged within him.

"Christine…why?" He sunk lower into a state of despairing numbness, cursing whatever trick of the senses he was now experiencing. "_Is it not enough that I am a widower? Must I be driven mad as well?"_

"Erik, what's wrong…?"

Lowering his hands he brought his head up, as the insistent voice grew slightly stronger now. As he turned his face to look at her unmoving form, he noticed something he had not seen before, her clear brown eyes staring directly into his own. He stumbled toward the bed in complete shock, his legs betrayed him, and as he fell kneeling at the bedside, he took her hand in his. "Christine…oh God….Christine…" He kissed her hands solemnly, wondering if this was all real, hoping and pleading that it was.

"Shhh…I'm alright, Erik," she breathed softly, her hoarse voice barely above a whisper.

He stared into her eyes, searching her face for truth. He was confused. Not moments ago did he think her departed from his life and yet, here she was. "_But what of earlier…what of…_"

With his position at the side of the bed, he hadn't noticed Adele enter into the room from the bathroom, carrying a bundle of cloth within her arms. The slight rustle of her clothes drew his attention, making him look over his shoulder as she approached the pair.

Erik looked back at Christine with a questioning look. Surprise and wonder conveyed in a glance.

Smiling at her husband, she squeezed his hand lovingly. "Would you like to hold your son, mon amour?"

His feeble attempt at comprehending the events of the last few moments crashed within his mind, and to acknowledge the idea of a son was all too great. "My…my… son?"

Christine nodded at Adele, who came forward to Erik's side. He stood up from the floor and faced her in stunned uncertainty.

After placing the baby into his arms, she bowed respectfully. "Congratulations Monsieur Delacroix. Your son is beautiful." She then turned to exit the room, blushing as she gave the new parents some privacy.

Erik sat beside Christine on the bed and ran his hand beneath the cloth surrounding his son's face. He was exactly as Adele had said. "I had not expected this, mon ange. He is absolutely perfect."

A tiny hand wrapped around his finger as he stroked the child's chest, a cherub with cheeks the color of rose petals and dark hair to match the midnight sky. The boy gave a slight hiccup of escaping gas, and seemingly smiled for both of his parents to see.

"Erik…" Christine stated, watching her husband and her son in amazement.

"Yes, mon amour?" He answered absently, still in awe, unable to fathom that he had both a son and a daughter now.

"No, _his_ name is Erik," she grinned up at him.

Without leaving the sight of his son's hypnotic face, he answered her after a time. "_Non_. His name is Edward."

She thought about it a moment, watching as Erik doted over their son. "Edward." She spoke aloud. "Edward _Erik_ Delacroix then." She compromised.

Josette knocked on the door before looking into the room, not wanting to intrude on the couple but sensing she would be welcome. "This young miss would dearly like to meet her brother, I believe."

Erik smiled broadly as she approached. He placed Edward upon his mother's bosom and took his daughter in his arms once more.

In need to return to her household duties, Josette bowed respectfully and then let herself out to give them some privacy in their familial joy.

Placing Caitlin between them carefully, Erik reclined beside Christine. He kissed his newborn children upon their brows and then did the same to his wife.

* * *

The entire household had each come into the room to congratulate the parents of the twins. Nicolas had seen to the bassinet being moved into the room downstairs. It was a temporary situation to give the lady of the house some time to regain her strength to travel between floors once more. 

Christine lay sleeping a few feet away from Erik as he held his son in one arm and his daughter in the other. Sitting in a rocking chair by the closed window, the light of the moon basked the three of them in its alabaster light. He hummed softly, melodies of love escaping him. He did not know yet, the words to express his feelings for his children. So he sang. The lullaby he spun for them swirled about his children in exquisite resonance, delicately lulling them to sleep by the loving tones of his voice.

Assured they had fallen into Morpheus' eternal dreamscape, he walked over to the bassinet and tucked them in together snuggly.

"Your gift for song has always been able to pull me from my dreams and into yours." Christine remarked knowingly.

Erik sat upon the bed beside her, placing his hand atop her arm. He rubbed his thumb against it blissfully as he reached out and rocked the bassinet with his free hand. "I will have to start working on another one of these," he chuckled softly. "They are sure to grow out of sharing this one in a matter of days."

"They'll be alright, mon amour." Christine giggled and patted her stomach lightly. "Remember, they shared the confines of my belly for eight whole months."

He stopped rocking the bassinet, long enough to pull Christine into his arms and cuddle her close. "I love you, mon ange."

She leaned up to kiss him softly upon his lips. "And I you, my angel of music..."

No truer words could ever have been spoken between the two of them. Indeed, no more words were needed at this most immaculate of moments.

The night passed in relative silence, the world peacefully coming together as it should be. The stars in the heavens gazed down upon their household, sparkling in the night sky as they have done for all eternity. Winking, you might say, as if they knew a secret or two about the future...

**-FIN-**

* * *

**Final Author's Note**  
I hope you all have enjoyed the journey thus far. As I said in the last chapter, be on the lookout for the third installment to this series, titled: "Turning of the Tide." And as for my first story, "To Be Held," I'll be posting the revised chapter alerts on the main description of the story, so you'll be able to check when and how far I've gotten in the rewriting process. 

Now, you may or may not have forgotten that I mentioned there would be a small surprise for those that decided to stick this sequel out with me (in chapter 20). What I've been able to do is set up a website for viewing the images I've compiled over the last two stories, along with the music mentioned in select chapters. Some of the music is also what I call "Mood Pieces" (not mentioned physically in the chapters, but added to the ambience of the entry). I've placed clickable links onto a MySpace page I created solely for this purpose. So, if you're interested, just visit my profile here on FFN and click on the "homepage" link and you'll be redirected to the page.

Enjoy it!

To my faithful readers and reviewers: You all have been amazing and so supportive of me. You are the best group of "Phans" a gal could ever have hoped for. I've cherished each and every review and it still humbles me to the point of tears. I kid you not. I'll do my best to continue my efforts to entertain you. Thank you all for everything, truly. You all deserve twirly cape hugs and masked kisses!

Last, but certainly not least, I wanted to thank my boyfriend of fifteen years. Jon's really helped me through this sequel and a lot of times I struggled…a lot! So my heart goes out to him for helping me through this story and accepting to be on board for the next in the series. I'm so glad he puts up with me and my Phantom/Gerry obsession. -giggles-

With Deepest Regards,

-Gwen a.k.a. Phanatic4Phantom & Dyanicess

**From Jon: **  
My pleasure. I've enjoyed editing and/or adding bits and pieces here or there. I think she's got a gift for storytelling that truly amazes me. She really does love her readers, by the way. Each piece of input she's ever received has had a noticeable and dramatic effect on her. I too, have appreciated the many comments on the portions I've had a hand in, so I thank you all as well.

Cheers!

-Jon a.k.a. Thargrimm


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